Out of the Shadows
by ugahill
Summary: A sequel to "In the Shadows" examining how Draco and Ginny handle their young relationship. Can they balance their beliefs with their hearts?
1. Silver and Gold

_Well, here it begins…a sequel to "In the Shadows"—created primarily as a birthday gift for a friend of mine! Happy Birthday to Jonah (aka, part of Ferret2)…I began work on this in order to present chapter 1 as a birthday present to you. Hopefully I'll have the 7th (and final) chapter ready as a birthday gift to the other half of Ferret2…I hope you both like it._

Out of the Shadows

A sequel to "In the Shadows" 

"There is nothing—absolutely nothing—worse than this moment," muttered Draco Malfoy, drumming his fingers on the table.

"Nobody here is thrilled about this," Ron Weasley muttered back, stabbing his fork into his pile of mashed potatoes, "believe _me_."

"Ron." Hermione turned towards Draco and forced a small smile. "This is for Ginny's benefit, remember that, Malfoy."

Draco felt the sneer fade slightly from his face. "Right."

"Well, then, how about it all?" Molly Weasley cried, a cheery smile on her plump face. "We're almost ready here, let's go ahead and dig in!"

Draco sighed and slowly picked up his fork, watching in disgust as the red-headed group around him began shoveling the piles of food lining the table onto their plates—and into their faces.

Ginny Weasley came out of the kitchen behind her mother, her red hair pulled into a high twist. Draco forced a small grin, and tasted a bit of the vegetables on the side of his plate.

They weren't half bad, actually.

Ginny grinned at him, and he blushed slightly, trying to bury his head behind the basket of rolls Mrs. Weasley had just set on the table—and ignoring the snickering stares of the rest of the Weasley family.

_If my father knew I was here…_

He shuddered to think of what his father might have in store for him if Lucius knew Draco was dining with his (almost) worst enemies.

Potter, luckily enough for him, was not here.

At least not for the moment.

"Mr. Malfoy, is everything to your liking?" Mrs. Weasley asked suddenly, casting a smile his way. Though her face appeared cheery enough, her eyes didn't crinkle at the sides, as he'd seen her smile at Potter.

She still didn't trust him.

_Should I blame her?_

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley, everything is…wonderful."

"Good. Well, then, Draco, if there is anything else you might need, you just let us know, all right?"

"Yes Ma'am."

The rest of the Weasleys glanced his way, the twins throwing him identical hateful stares. Draco pushed the rest of the food on his plate around with his fork.

In truth, he had no idea what half of this stuff was. He'd gotten used to less than gourmet dishes at Hogwarts, but this was just…just…

"Difficult to get used to, isn't it?" Ginny said, taking her seat beside him. "It's not exactly what the House Elves might serve at Malfoy Manor, I know."

"N-no…its fine…I'm not too hungry…is…"

"It's alright, Draco," Ginny whispered. "I don't expect you to get used to things immediately—all of this will take time. I certainly won't be feeling comfortable the next time _I _visit Malfoy Manor."

She smiled at him, and he returned the smile, a genuine one this time. His grin faded as Ginny's eyes tightened for a moment.

He frowned, thinking back to the last time Ginny had visited his home. The _only_ time—she had been made a prisoner of his Aunt Bellatrix, and subject to his Aunt's cruel curses.

_But now she's dead…_

His fork clattered to the floor.

_My mother killed her…_

"Draco?"

Ginny drew closer to him, holding his dropped fork. The rest of the table stared at him in silence, Granger watching him in apparent concern.

He snatched the fork out of Ginny's hand. "I'm fine."

Ginny sat back, huffing a bit.

A loud moan rattled the timbers above them.

"Oh, _honestly_," cried Mrs. Weasley, blushing. The eldest brother with the dragon fang earring—Sam…John…Bob…? clanged on a nearby stovepipe.

"That thing will _never_ shut up," remarked one of the twins. "You should just let us get rid of it for you, Mum."

"Right. And have you destroy half the rooftop while you're at it? That ghoul has never really bothered anyone, he'll stay where's he's at, thank you very much. And so will my rooftop!"

Draco snorted; Ginny kicked him under the table. But she was grinning as well.

The Weasel frowned at him again. Conversation returned to normal around the Weasley table, and Draco observed the family at ease, acting almost as though he wasn't there—the first real instance he'd ever been to "The Burrow".

He would never let his family know this—not even his House Elves—but it wasn't all that bad.

* * *

"You've lived here all your life—haven't you ever wanted…a change?" Draco asked, turning to glance at Ginny for a moment.

Ginny laughed softly. Draco hadn't been terribly comfortable during dinner, but Ginny had expected as much. Life at the Burrow was extraordinary even for people like Harry—and he'd spent the first ten years of his life locked away in a closet.

"Of course I've wanted a change. But this is the family I have, and this is the situation we are in. I wouldn't change my family, of course—so I've learned to live with everything."

"I'm sorry, Ginny…I don't mean to be…"

"But you are. I'm sorry Draco, but you are. You're a Malfoy." She reached up and brushed aside a strand of his silver-blond hair. "I've learned to live with that, strange as it may be."

"Strange?"

"Yes, strange. As strange as a Malfoy choosing to be with a Weasley. There's nothing wrong with admitting that—so long as we don't let others influence our choices."

"Like your brothers?"

"Well, that, as well as the whole of Slytherin House."

"And Gryffindor."

"And Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw, for that matter!" Ginny giggled. "Probably some of the teachers too, poor souls. We're just a problem for everyone."

"Except us."

She turned to him; for the first time that evening, his eyes were serious.

"Except us," she whispered back.

He leaned in towards her.

"OUCH!"

Draco leapt from the bench, grasping at his ankle. "What was that?"

Ginny frowned, peering at the bite. And sighed.

"Garden Gnomes. They have nasty teeth."

"You have Gnomes in your garden?"

"Everyone does. Just not everyone has gardeners to tend to them." She rose, pulling out her wand.

"_Flipendo_."

A small, potato-headed creature staggered out from beneath the bench.

"Do you want to have some fun?" she asked coyly, reaching down to pick up the ugly creature.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Fun?"

Ginny swung the Gnome above her head, then flung it out onto the dirt path beside the Burrow.

"What does that do?"

"They become so disoriented, they don't know what they're about. They'll lose their way and won't be able to find their Gnome-hole again. So they'll make a new one, away from the garden."

He pulled out his wand slowly, a playful sneer slowly spreading across his face. "My goodness, Ginny, you're just so terribly romantic."

She leaned over to him, brushing his hair from his face, and drew him into a kiss. "My dear Malfoy," she said softly, after releasing him. "You have to earn your way to _everything_ around here."

* * *

"He did _what? "_ Harry asked, his eyes widening.

"Helped clean out the garden. The _entire_ garden. They were out there until 4 am," giggled Hermione, clearing the breakfast plates from the table. "I've never seen anything like it. It was amazing."

"It was bloody disgusting, it was. _Malfoy_. Cleaning out our garden like…like he was a part of the family." Ron glared at Hermione from his position in a nearby armchair.

"Looks like someone didn't get much sleep last night," Hermione said with a small smile.

"Don't worry, Ron, its not as bad as it seems, I'm sure," said Harry with a grin.

"I can't _believe_ this! First Ginny convinces my mother, and now the both of you!"

Harry glanced at Hermione, who smiled at him.

"Relax, Ron. We're not going to become his best friends, you know."

"I bloody hope not—because I might have to employ some of those jinxes we've been studying for DA. You know—the _really nasty_ ones."

"What did you find out, Harry?" Hermione asked, ignoring him. "Did you learn anything from the Professor Dumbledore?"

"No." Harry settled down at the table, brushing his hair from his face. The night had been a long one. "Professor Dumbledore still hasn't figured out what we're going to do about the upcoming school term. And he wouldn't tell me much anyway."

"Certainly they do not expect an attack like the last one?"

"He has no idea _what_ to expect," said Harry, glancing between her and Ron. "That Bellatrix Lestrange was capable of such a massive attack against Hogwarts has he and the rest of the Order concerned, obviously. But short of canceling the term, there is little he can do to ensure the absolute security of the students."

"I would imagine the parents understand that the teachers have done everything they can to protect the students. What happened with Bellatrix was unpredictable," Hermione said, sitting down next to him. "No one even began to fathom she could produce such an army."

"That is what worries Professor Dumbledore," replied Harry. "That no one, not even her close family, knew what she had planned."

"They knew about the Dementors," said Ron harshly. "They just chose not to tell."

"How in the wizarding world did she manage to amass such a group so close to Hogwarts, though? That's what concerns them. Even if the Death Eaters concealed the fact that they had gathered such a large army, the idea that they could get so close to Hogwarts—right on the front doorstep—without any of the protective spells being affected or any of professors being able to sense them…that's what remains troubling."

"Most of that had to do with that fellow Roget, though, aren't I right?" asked Hermione. "Because he was in charge of the protective spells surrounding Hogwarts. Now the Ministry knows better. I'm certain they'll employ more than one person to protect the school."

"Yes…but how many of the employees of the Ministry might be Death Eaters? Or against Professor Dumbledore? We cannot be certain whether they'll provide the appropriate protection."

"So…they're just going to cancel term?" Hermione asked, wide-eyed. Harry shook his head slowly.

"Hopefully not. I would hate to go back to Privet Drive."

"Why not just stay here, then? You can live at the Burrow. We might even be able to have Hermione around, to keep us up on our lessons—although on the other hand..."

"Very funny, Ron."

"Believe me, I wish I could…but I can't. If it looks like term won't begin, I'll have to return to my Aunt's house."

"Why, Harry?"

He glanced up at her. "I…I can't say. But believe me when I say its important."

"He just loves muggles. Can't get enough…doesn't want to stay away. Perhaps he should go live with them for _good_."

Harry frowned as they turned to the door. Draco Malfoy was leaning against the frame, a cruel smile on his face.

"What's wrong, Malfoy? Run out of Garden Gnomes to throw about?"

The grin disappeared from the Slytherin's face. "What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you'd be staying in London, with that namby-pamby of a Headmaster. 'Oh, precious Potter, can't let him out on the street, he might stub his toe and then we're _all lost._'"

"Shut up, Malfoy," Ron hissed, rising.

"Make me, Weasel. Or maybe we can get your _Mum_ to do it."

"At least _my Mum_…"

"Ron!"

"RONALD!"

"Harry!"

Harry glanced past Malfoy; behind him stood Mrs. Weasley and Ginny. Mrs. Weasley had her arms crossed and was glaring at Ron, but Ginny was smiling, and brushed past her boyfriend.

"Harry! I'm so glad you've come back! We were worried!"

"Hello, Ginny. Glad to be back."

"Did you have a safe journey?"

"Ginny!"

Ginny turned, a confused expression on her face. "What?"

Malfoy had straightened, a slight pink tint to his face. "Don't we have to work on that thing for your Mum?"

"What thing?"

"You know, that thing…"

"What _are_ you talking about?"

"You know…"

"No, I _don't…"_

"Its alright, Ginny. Ron and I have to talk to Harry anyway," said Hermione with a smile, looping one arm around Harry's and grasping Ron by his jumper. "If you'll excuse us, Mrs. Weasley, we'll all catch up later."

"Of course, dear," said Mrs. Weasley, a conspiratorial grin on her face.

Harry waved a small goodbye to the group as Hermione yanked him through the doorway, knocking him into the back of Ron's head. When all three were out of the Burrow, Hermione bent over, giggling.

He frowned as he straightened his glasses. "What was that all about?"

"He was _jealous! " g_asped Hermione between giggles. "Couldn't you see? He was jealous—of you!"

"Who…_Malfoy_?"

"Yes! Because of the way Ginny spoke to you! He was so jealous his face was going green!"

Harry grinned. "I wish I'd been paying more attention."

Ron crossed his arms, looking quite put off. "I don't find that funny. "

Hermione straightened back up, stifling the rest of her giggles at the sight of Ron's face. "You only say that because you dislike him."

"OF COURSE I BLOODY DISLIKE HIM! HE'S MALFOY!"

Hermione sighed. "You've been like this ever since Ginny started dating Malfoy. You can't keep running in circles forever, Ron. Something has to change on your part."

"He should change on _HIS _part."

"He HAS, Ron. He has changed quite a bit since last term. You haven't noticed because you've been blinded by your hatred of him. For Ginny's sake, though, he is trying."

"Oh really? How?"

"Well, for one thing we haven't gotten into a spells duel—other than that one Fred and George tried to start and which your mother quickly put an end to—and…well, he hasn't called me a m-mudblood once."

Harry turned to her. "He hasn't?"

"Not once."

"That really _is_ something."

"I can't believe you'd give him even a _little_ bit of sympathy, Hermione! Did you hear what he just said? Besides that, he's Malfoy! He's never been 'good' or even remotely close to it!"

"Ron, people _change._ Ginny certainly has—she's nothing like she used to be. And now she's changing Malfoy."

Ron made a face, crossing his arms. "I'll believe it when I see it."

"You know, it doesn't help matters if you think like _him_," Hermione huffed, "you're _supposed _to be the good one, but you act just like the Malfoys, without any tolerance for anyone else! I suppose that once you've set your opinion, there is no changing your mind!"

"Probably not!"

"Then you're just as bad as they are!"

"All right!" Harry said, stepping between them. "That's enough. We'll do what Hermione says and let Malfoy alone—"

"WHAT?"

"—Until he bothers us. And when he does, the consequences are on his head."

Ron looked slightly pacified; Hermione turned away from them both.

"Fine. Just don't do anything foolish…for Ginny's sake."

* * *

"This is what you were talking about?" Ginny mumbled, tossing aside a tattered piece of cloth. "Cleaning out the attic?"

Draco narrowed his eyes, refusing to turn to her. "Your mum mentioned something about it."

"But you took her _seriously_. She's always complaining about the attic! You didn't have to volunteer!"

"I thought you _wanted_ me to be nice to your family!"

"There are some things that even you shouldn't be forced to do." Ginny sat back on her legs, rubbing her eyes for a moment. Her pretty red hair was covered in dust. The ghoul hadn't shown yet, but that hadn't stopped him from making quite a bit of noise trying to chase them out.

She turned to him, suddenly smiling. "But I'm grateful you're being considerate. There are some things you shouldn't be forced to do, but you're doing them anyway, and you haven't complained once."

Draco's heart fluttered a moment. " 'S nothing…"

She grinned, and turned back to her pile of junk, stifling a sneeze. Draco turned back to his own mess, thumbing delicately through what looked like an old boot, a strange sort of pointed device with a long cord, and a broken compass.

"What IS all this?"

"Mmmm…mostly Dad's old junk. We have a shed in the back where he keeps the stuff he's working on, but Mum makes him clean it out periodically. If there's something he doesn't want to get rid of, he tends to try and hide it in here."

"So…some of this stuff is…_muggle_ stuff."

"Yeah…anything with this," she held aloft a long cord that had two blunt pieces of metal sticking it out of the end, "is a muggle device. There are other things here too, but I'm not certain which are muggle things and broken wizard things."

Draco wrinkled his nose. "Either way…"

"Don't worry, they won't bite you!" she laughed.

He smiled as she covered her mouth with her hands, trying to stifle her giggles.

He was still surprised that he was sitting here, in a dusty, moldy attic, with a girl that had, only months before, been considered one of his worst enemies. Sister to the Weasel, friend of Hermione Granger, his greatest classroom rival (and a muggleborn to boot) and, of course, supposedly the girl meant for Harry Potter, the person he hated most in the world.

He rose, moving towards her, and placed a hand on her face.

"What?" she asked, her laughter dying away. "What is it?"

"I…just wanted to make sure this was real."

Her face softened. "Draco…"

Draco leaned in to her, pulling her towards him.

From somewhere above them, the ghoul rumbled softly in the upper eaves of the house.

Ginny pulled him closer to her, wrapping her arms around him, deepening the kiss.

There was a soft whistling sound from somewhere outside, followed by the sound of shattering glass.

Ginny pulled away from him. "Wha…"

An explosion of bright light filled the attic; the ghoul shrieked and rattled the timbers so violently that the entire house shook. From above them there was a popping sound, and Draco barely managed to pull Ginny to the floor as a wash of liquid poured down upon them.

The ghoul's moaning stopped, and the house stilled. Draco wiped his face, trying to move the purplish goo out of his eyes.

Ginny was gaping at the room, which was completely covered in the sticky, lavender mess. Identical giggles were filtering up from the backyard. Ginny's eyes widened, and she bolted towards the broken window.

"Fred! George!"

"Ginny! Were you up there?"

"YOU KNEW PERFECTLY WELL WE WERE UP HERE YOU PRATS!"

"Sorry Gin! We were trying out the new Ghoul repellent! It won't happen again!"

"YOU BET IT WON'T!!"

Ginny pulled out her wand, slipping through the goo towards the door. Draco watched her open-mouthed.

"Ginny…Gin! Wait…" he struggled through the muck as she slid through door.

"You can't use magic! Ginny…Wait!!"

* * *

"Some things are so good they're worth taking a picture of," said Ron contentedly.

"Ron, that wasn't funny," Hermione remarked, though she was having a difficult time maintaining her frown.

"Malfoy…covered in purple muck…and you don't think that was _funny?_"

"Not when Fred and George caused it."

"That's _why_ its funny."

"Honestly."

"You have to admit, Hermione…it was a little funny," Harry said, looking up from The Daily Prophet he'd been studying.

"Alright…fine. It was funny. Ha ha. Malfoy covered in slime. A jolly good laugh. I just don't understand why you all have to be so _juvenile_ about this. He's Ginny's boyfriend. You're not going to drive him away by playing such stupid tricks. You're just going to make her angry."

"Anything that humiliates Malfoy is worth Ginny's anger."

"You're not going to say that when you end up in outer Mongolia because of a piece of Shepard's Pie you ate. Remember what happened to Fred and George last year?"

Ron sighed. "Al_right. _I'll stop teasing him."

Hermione smiled. "Thanks."

"…while you're around."

"RON!"

"Look at this!" Harry interrupted. He unfolded _The Daily Prophet_ in front of them. "Narcissa Malfoy is going before the Wizengamot tomorrow."

Hermione leaned over his shoulder. "Goodness. Should we show this to Malfoy? Or do you think he already knows?"

"I don't think he knows—if he did, he'd probably be gone by now. But do you think telling him is a good idea?"

"Well, he should know…it is his mother, after all. He has the right."

"But that would be _helping_ him."

Hermione turned around, glaring at Ron. "Ron!"

"I think Hermione's right this time, mate. It is his Mum. Wouldn't you want him to tell you if your Mum was in trouble?"

Ron pulled himself up from his chair. Fine. But I'm not going to be the one to say anything—you tell him."

Harry grinned. "Oh, right…"

"I'll do it," said Hermione snatching the paper from Harry's hands. "At least he knows I would tell the truth."

"Fine by me."

"Alright."

"_BOYS. "_ Hermione mumbled, rolling her eyes.

* * *

"Thanks."

Draco took the paper from Hermione's hands, staring at the picture on page seven.

Ginny took his hand. "It will be alright, Draco."

"I wonder why the Crumholtzes didn't tell me of this…I would have thought the Manor would have informed them. At least before _The Daily Prophet_ informed _me._"

"Perhaps they haven't seen the news yet. Some of the people who report for the Prophet have very good sources."

"Better than my own Mother?"

Hermione and Ginny exchanged glances.

"I'd better return to the Crumholtzes. They'll be wondering why I have not yet come back to their Manor."

"Alright then, we'll see you tomorrow?" Granger asked timidly. Draco threw her a snide look.

"Right."

Ginny sighed, chastising. He rolled his eyes. "I will see you tomorrow…Granger."

"Goodbye."

Ginny walked out with him, down the dirt path through the front of The Burrow gate. "Thanks for that, Draco."

He shrugged. "I don't know when I'll be back tomorrow."

"Just drop on by when you can." Her face saddened. "I hope you've had a good time."

He placed a finger under her chin, and raised it. "I have had a good time. Your parents have been great, and your brothers…well…"

"Draco, they drive _me_ mad!"

"Alright then, they drive me mad. But I've been here with you, so that's fine."

She threw her arms around him. "You really are…just…amazing."

"Goodnight, Ginny."

"Goodnight."

She kissed him softly. For a moment, he felt a bit lightheaded.

And very glad he had come.

* * *

The walk to Castor Manor wasn't very far. The massive castle was only a short broom ride away from Ottery St. Catchpole, the tiny village where The Burrow was. But the Manor sat a full five miles into the property, and was concealed carefully from prying eyes.

Which meant he had a very long walk.

His Mother had insistedthat he stay with someone close to The Burrow; why she didn't just let him remain at Malfoy Manor was beyond him, but he figured it might have something to do with those meetings that still (to his knowledge) took place in the dungeons.

The problem was, the Crumholtzes disapproved of Floo travel: _a poor man's method_, he'd heard Mr. Crumholtz state many a time, despite the fact that the Malfoys, and many other reputable families, used the Floo constantly, because of their children. Apparating was out of the question with the Crumholtzes—he wouldn't dare ask them to arrive anywhere near The Burrow. And there was no point in creating a Portkey—the villages were too close—and the key too dangerous.

With the village of Ottery St. Catchpole so near, he couldn't ride his broom, and riding in Mr. Weasley's elected form of transport—a muggle car—was absolutely out of the question.

So, like a common muggle, Draco walked.

He didn't mind so much; the walk allowed him to clear his head. He tended to forget, when he was with Ginny, of the proud traditions his family upheld. He wanted to keep those feelings as close to his heart as he could—mainly to remember that the majority of his life existed away from the Weasleys, in Slytherin. It also prevented the Crumholtzes from growing suspicious.

His mother had arranged he stay with them because they were a family intimately connected with the Malfoys for many generations. His Mother would not explain to him how, exactly—an excuse Draco took to mean they were Death Eaters.

He was glad, however, she'd arranged it. He cared about Ginny very much, but he didn't think he could stay at The Burrow, no matter how much he wanted to see her.

The walk up the wide lane was dark, lined with elm trees that cast a strange shadow over the rocky landscape. Castor Manor, seated in a small vale in the distance, was massive—and cold, after the warmth and comfort of The Burrow. Malfoy Manor was much grander, but Castor Manor's eerie atmosphere made it feel familiar—and a bit ominous. The still waters of the lake were just a bit too still; the bushes around the house just silent enough to warrant suspicion.

Jakob Crumholtz was waiting for Draco as he entered the massive sitting area, a copy of _The Daily Prophet_ spread across his lap.

He stared at Draco for a moment; Draco knew he was studying him to see if he was aware of the news.

"Hello, sir."

"Draco."

There was an awkward silence.

"I heard about Mother, Mr. Crumholtz."

The gentleman sighed, refolding the paper. "I had a feeling _they_ would inform you. I suppose there was no help for it. Draco, you must return to the Manor, and await the news from Azkaban."

"Are they really expecting the trial this quickly?"

"Of course. I needn't explain about the power your family has within the wizarding world."

"No sir."

"Well then, we've have settled the matter. I will escort you home this evening."

"NO!"

Mr. Crumholtz turned, his eyes narrowed. "Your Mother will be awaiting your return."

"My…my Mother?"

"She has been afforded a special privilege…she was allowed to return to the Manor today, in order to prepare for her trial."

"She's at home? Why did no one inform me of this?"

"She did not want to…_disrupt_ your 'visit'. _Extremely_ considerate of her."

Draco frowned. "Of course I will return, as soon as I am able."

"Able? I take this to mean you're not leaving at this moment?"

"I will leave tomorrow, as early as I can."

"Draco, why ever would you want to stay when she needs you most?"

"I have to explain to my—acquaintances—why I must leave," he said, refusing to look up. "I can't just abandon them without a word of explanation."

The expression on Mr. Crumholtz's face turned dark. "I've agreed to allow you to stay here because of the allegiance I hold for your father, and all he believed in. Assisting you in working _against_ his wishes is the not exactly rewarding his loyalty to our cause."

"Just one day, Mr. Crumholtz. Then you shall be rid of me and my unpopular ideals."

"Unpopular? You are shaming your family, Draco…your Father, and all he stands for…"

"One more day, Jakob," interrupted a voice from the foyer. Mrs. Crumholtz, one of his mother's very best friends, came up behind him, her thin nose raised, and placed her long fingers on his arm. "Narcissa approves of this, and I shall not go against her wishes, no matter how…_distasteful_ it might be."

Mr. Crumholtz frowned, but said nothing. His wife smiled thinly at Draco.

"You have one day, Draco. But that is all. Your Mother needs you—and know who is visiting them now."

"Do you mean Harry Potter?" The Crumholtzes seemed to grimace at the name. Draco raised an eyebrow. "Is something going to happen?"

"Not particularly—except…wherever _he_ goes, who knows what danger might follow? You have one day."

* * *

"Are you happy, Ginny?"

Ginny glanced sideways at Hermione, who was curled up against one of the trees the lined the back of their yard. Harry, Ron, the Twins, and Bill were playing a rowdy game of Quidditch, practicing, Ron said, for the upcoming year. Even though Ginny would be a Chaser on the team, her brothers had insisted it would be "too rough."

Harry, catching her expression, had been slightly more genteel, insisting that she stay on the ground to keep Hermione company. Ginny gave him the benefit of the doubt.

"I suppose so…why?"

Hermione sighed. "It just seems so odd—such a difficult match."

"That's because it _is_ an odd and difficult match."

Her friend laughed. "At least you realize the truth about things. I never would have imagined Malfoy could be anything close to what he is like now. But he is, and I suppose that is all for your benefit."

"I hope so. But I also hope that he wants to change for his own good, not just for me."

"I don't know if he has any 'good' beyond you."

"Don't say that!" Ginny snapped. "Every person has some good in them!"

"Everyone? What about Lord Voldemort?"

Ginny jumped. It still surprised her to hear Hermione speak of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named so casually. Harry had done it for quite some time, but he'd never really referred to You-Know-Who as You-Know-Who. Hermione had, though—but then again, she was muggle-born, it was probably no surprise she could address him by his name so quickly without flinching.

She'd never _really_ known what it was like living her whole life afraid of a man who was no longer a shadow.

"He doesn't count as a person."

"Right." Hermione's gaze was fixed on the skies, where Harry, standing in for Ginny, was trying his best to get around Ron and score a goal. The practice, after all, was much more for Ron's benefit than anyone else's—and Harry needed little practice as a Seeker.

"Are you happy, Hermione?"

"What?"

"You asked me if I was happy. Are _you_ happy?"

"I'm quite happy. Other than being afraid for Harry, and for Ron, and for you, and your family, and _my_ family, and the teachers, and the Order…and what's coming…I suppose I'm quite happy."

Ginny giggled. "Sorry. I just…wonder, sometimes…how you feel."

Hermione turned to her, a pink blush spreading across her face. "Feel…"

"You know…"

"I _don't_ know. I just don't know." She turned back to the Quidditch game, where Ron was zooming excitedly around the makeshift keeper goals they had erected from one of their mother's washtubs and a set of poles Bill had "extended". Harry was staring at him with a sour expression, until he caught sight of Hermione and Ginny, at which point he grinned and waved. Ron, watching Harry, turned and waved as well.

Hermione grinned and waved back; as the twins sent their bludger (one of their dad's old shoes, actually, again enchanted by Bill) zooming at Ron's head, calling for him to resume the game, her smile faded. "I just don't know."

Ginny nodded. "We'll just have to wait, then, and see."

* * *

"No…leave that…leave that ALONE!"

Harry peered around the corner of the stair, into the kitchen of the burrow, where Ginny was chasing after one of the twins with a ladle.

"GIVE THOSE BACK TO ME! MUM!!!"

"Fred—George! Place those eggs back on the table."

"But Mum…they don't have the proper _ingredients. "_

"That's right, Mum…and with Malfoy coming over we have to add our special seasonings," came another voice from somewhere within the kitchen.

"He'll be here any minute! You better let me have those, or the next place you go won't be within apparating distance!"

"Muuu-uuummm…Ginny's threatening to Floo us somewhere again!"

"FRED, GEORGE, GINEVRA WEASLEY!!! YOU STOP THIS RACKET _THIS INSTANT!!!_ GEORGE, SET THOSE DOWN RIGHT NOW!! GINNY, PUT AWAY YOUR WAND! YOU BETTER HOPE YOUR FATHER DOESN'T COME IN HERE AND FIND YOU LIKE THIS!!!"

Harry chuckled; life at the Burrow was often chaotic—and Harry enjoyed it very much. The door behind him creaked open, and he turned, expecting to find Mr. Weasley coming for breakfast after working in his garage.

Draco Malfoy entered instead, his face darkening as he caught sight of Harry. "Still here, Potter?"

"I should ask the same of you, Malfoy. What are you doing here so early?"

"I, unlike you, was _invited_."

"I was invited, Malfoy…although I, unlike you, have been told I don't _need_ an invitation."

"Well, maybe you should consider more carefully the invitations you choose to accept…especially now."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Did it never occur to you that you might be putting people in danger here?"

Harry stared at him for a moment. "What do you know, Malfoy?" he asked slowly.

"Nothing in particular. But I have it on very good authority that the Death Eaters know you're here. Which means the Dark Lord knows you're here. You've been particularly lucky before—you might even survive again, should they come for you—but that doesn't mean everyone else here would. Mrs. Weasley, her family, Granger…_Ginny_. They're all in danger—just because you are here."

Harry watched him silently. Malfoy had a nasty sneer on his face, but his gray eyes were perfectly serious.

"Why don't you think of someone other than yourself for once. Might have helped you in the past, with Diggory and…that _convict_ you were hanging around with."

Harry balled up his fist, rage coursing through him. Sharp tears pricked the back of his eyelids. "Malfoy…"

Malfoy grinned at him evilly. "Touch a nerve, Potter?"

"Malfoy?" Hermione came down from the stairs, a puzzled look on her face. "You weren't supposed to be here for another hour or so."

Malfoy turned to her, looking slightly displeased. He swallowed, but replied in a cordial voice, "I cannot stay. I just came to say goodbye."

"Goodbye?" Ginny emerged from the kitchen, her hair slightly mussed, and still holding the ladle. "Why goodbye? You were supposed to stay here another week."

"I can't. My Mother…"

Ginny's face fell. "Right. The Wizengamot. I'm sorry, Draco, I was not thinking."

"Don't worry," he pushed past Harry. "I didn't know either. The Crumholtzes told me that I should return to the Manor. I wouldn't leave so suddenly if…"

"I know, Draco. If you need to leave, I can explain to Mum and Dad."

"No, I'll give my apologies to your mother." Ginny took Draco into the kitchen. Harry watched them go.

"What's wrong, Harry?" asked Hermione, staring at him. He hadn't realized she was still standing there. His fist was still tightly closed, his nails digging so sharply into his skin he'd drawn blood.

"Nothing," he muttered, turning away from her.

_They're all in danger—just because you are here._

"Harry…"

"We'd better go say goodbye to Malfoy."

"What?"

Harry shook his head, moving towards the kitchen.

* * *

"Well, now…we'll certainly miss having you around, Draco. But I am glad you were able to come and stay with us for a short while."

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," Draco smiled genuinely. For all the quirks of the Weasley family, Mrs. Weasley really was a nice person. A bit odd, of course—and certainly different from any mother he'd ever met. But she was a bit like Ginny, which made him…appreciate her.

_Not that Mother will ever know that. _

"Bye, Malfoy…we're so sorry to see you go so soon," sneered the twins in unison. Ginny glared at them.

The other Weasley brother…Benny? nodded at him. He was kinda quiet…and that dragon fang earring was really rather smart. Of any of the Weasleys, other than Ginny, Draco probably liked him most.

The Weasel, Granger, and Potter were standing together, in the corner. Granger was trying her best to smile pleasantly; Weasley was hiding behind her bushy hair. Potter was closest to him, but he was looking down.

Draco raised a hand to Mrs. Weasley, and started to walk past them.

"You know what you have to do," he hissed as he passed by Potter, low so the others could not hear. Potter looked straight at him, his green eyes blazing. But he said nothing.

Mr. Weasley was waiting at the door, having come out from his garage after hearing Draco was leaving.

"Goodbye, Mr. Mal—er, Draco," he said pleasantly, though, like Mrs. Weasley, his smile was more polite than caring.

At least he'd stopped trying to push that Beauxbatons exchange program on Ginny.

"Goodbye, Mr. Weasley. Thank you very much for all your kindness."

Ginny's father seemed taken aback. "Well…thank you. Thank you very much. We look forward to seeing you again."

He extended his hand. Draco shook it cordially. "Of course. I'm certain I shall see you soon."

Ginny walked out with him. She was trying to appear disaffected, but failing rather miserably. "Be careful. I'm sure your mother will be fine."

He grinned. "My Mother will be more than fine. What about you?"

"I'll be alright."

"Will you be able to survive your brothers?"

"I've survived them for fifteen years," Ginny remarked smartly. "I think I can handle a few more weeks with them. Besides, Fred and George will be getting back to their joke shop, now that you've gone. They were only here to…_observe. _"

"That is a very nice way to put things."

"Draco? I'm nervous for you."

"Whatever for?"

"What if the situation doesn't work out like it should?" Ginny leaned forward, placing her forehead upon his chest. "What will you do?"

He sighed. "I will do what I am must do."

She pulled away, gazing up at him with a petulant expression. "Why do you always have to say that like you're inheriting leadership of the Death Eaters?"

"What?"

"Things have been so pleasant this last week…and now that this business with your Mother has come up, you've gone…cold again…"

"Cold?" He stiffened. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"N-nothing…its just that…well…you've become _Malfoy_ again."

"I AM a Malfoy."

"Yes, but you don't have to _be_ Malfoy…"

"Ginny…let's not do this…again?"

"Do what?"

"This…the Weasley 'dance of righteousness'. We've had a good week, haven't we? Let's not fall into this every time you're reminded of who my family is. I would prefer not to talk about it."

"Well, I think its important to talk about."

"Well, at this moment, I don't."

"Draco…"

"I thought we agreed not to discuss this until later."

"We did?"

"Yes we did," he said, trying to remain calm. "Of course, with _him _here I wouldn't expect you to remember that…"

"What? Who?"

Draco waved a hand. "Let's just not do this."

"Of course. Harry," Ginny placed her hands on her hips, as she often did when she was chastising her brothers. "Draco, the only reason Harry is so welcome here is because Ron's been friends with him since he came to Hogwarts. It's great Harry's a hero and all, but my brother's friendship with him really has nothing to do with that. Harry's a good person, and that's why my family loves him."

Draco shuddered, a twinge of jealousy coursing through him. "Of course, the perfect Potter. How your family can be so fooled about him I'll never know."

Ginny crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. "If I can't criticize your family, then don't you question mine."

"But you _do_ criticize…all the time."

"Oh, do I?"

"Yes…but why wouldn't you? My family is wicked, remember?"

"Right…I'm sorry," Ginny said, her tone growing cold. "I'm sorry I said anything at all. Of _course_ you should do what you must—and risk the lives of everyone around you. If it would make you feel better, you should just go ahead and take care of Harry here, it would make everyone's life easier…I'll do you a favor and stand in front of him, and you can take care of me too…"

An image of Ginny tumbling to the ground…looking eerily like his Aunt Bellatrix as she fell forward, dead by his mother's hand…

"STOP!" He pulled her back to him forcefully. "Please…_let's__not_ do this!"

She wrested herself out of his grasp. Her face softened slightly at the expression on his, but she pulled away from him anyhow. "Take care of yourself, Draco. Tell your mother…tell your mother I wish her luck."

"Ginny…"

There was no warmth in her eyes—the damage had been done. He suddenly felt extremely glad he was leaving. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

* * *

_"Goodbye? "_

Harry stuffed another shirt into his sack, trying his best to avoid Hermione's vexed expression.

"Lay off, Hermione," said Ron, catching Harry's face. "I'm sure he has a good reason to go."

Harry grinned at him gratefully—he was glad Ron, at least, understood.

Hermione glanced from one to the other, growing ruffled. "But you can't leave! Its just a few more weeks before term! Where are you going to go? Back to your Aunt and Uncle? You can't go back to Grimmauld…"

Hermione raised a hand to her mouth, her eyes widening. Harry stopped packing, glaring at her.

"Harry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…it's just that…you're always so happy here…why would you want to go? And yesterday you were saying…"

"Its not a matter of wanting to go, Hermione. I _have_ to."

"But why do you have to? You're always doing things alone! You said yourself that you've suffered things we can't understand—that's because you're always leaving us behind! Don't…"

Outside, voices rose from the walk in front of The Burrow.

"Right…I'm sorry. I'm sorry I said anything at all," Ginny was yelling coldly. "Of _course_ you should do what you must—

"What in Merlin's name…" murmured Hermione. Ron eagerly trotted to the window. Harry turned away, still packing.

"…and risk the lives of everyone around you. If it would make you feel better, you should just go ahead and take care of Harry here, it would make everyone's life easier…I'll do you a favor and stand in front of him, and you can take care of me too…"

"Wow…" Ron said softly.

"STOP!" He heard Malfoy shout. The conversation died away as they moved out of earshot.

"Goodness," Hermione said, moving away from the window. Ron continued to watch, a satisfied smile on his face. "Leave it to Malfoy to make his last day the worst one. Maybe now she'll be reasonable."

Hermione yanked him away from the window forcefully, puffing up in a manner very similar to Mrs. Weasley when she was about to yell at the twins.

"She'll probably need someone to talk to…why don't you go and find her?" Harry said, before she could begin again. Below them, the front door slammed, rattling the timbers.

"I'm not going away so you can leave behind my back!" Hermione replied hotly, arms crossed.

Harry sighed. "I'm not leaving to get away from you…or Ron" he added. "I have to leave. Its not safe for anyone when I'm here. Ginny, you…Mrs. And Mr. Weasley, Ron…everyone's in danger when I'm near them."

"Harry, does this have something to do with what Malfoy said to you earlier?"

He paused a moment. "What does it matter if it does? What he said was true—people _are_ in danger when I'm around."

"Harry, if that was the case, they'd have you locked away no matter where you went! As it is, Professor Dumbledore knows you'll be protected if you come here! He's not going to allow anything to happen to anyone."

"The Burrow isn't like Hogwarts. Dumbledore can't be here round the clock to make sure everyone is protected. What happens if the Death Eaters escape? What happens if Voldemort comes looking here? Only Ron's Mum and Dad are here—are they going to be able to protect all of us and survive?"

"Where are you going to go?"

"I know that I'm safe with my Aunt and Uncle. I'll go back to them—to Privet Drive."

"But they're horrible, mate," Ron said, looking surprised. "They'll do nothing to protect you."

"Trust me. There, I'm protected," Harry said, tying up the sack. "Both they and I will be safe. And they might be bad—but they're not worse than Professor Umbridge. If I could survive her for a year, I can survive another few weeks with the Dursleys."

Ron shuddered. "She was horrible. No one is worse than her."

"Except for Voldemort," Hermione said, her lower lip starting to tremble. "He's looking for you, Harry. How can you know they will be able to protect you, when we can't?"

"Professor Dumbledore told me so," he said softly.

Both of his friends looked up at him.

He walked over to her, placing one hand on her shoulder, the other on Ron's. "You trust Dumbledore, right?"

She nodded slowly.

"Believe me when I say that even Voldemort won't be able to find me. I know that's its surprising, but, as I said before, the Dursleys are the best possible solution right now. And at least this way I know that everyone will be safe."

He turned, leading the way out of the room. Hermione followed, arms still crossed, looking as though she wanted to say something, but restraining herself. Ron followed with his hands stuffed in his pockets. He stopped short as Ginny approached them, shuffling up the stairs slowly, her head down.

"Ginny? I'm leaving now…I…" he paused as he caught sight of her face. It was red, and splotchy.

She glanced up at him. "You're leaving? Why?"

"I…just have to…did Malfoy…are you two alright?"

"Yeah," she said snidely, rubbing her cheeks. "He said goodbye, that's all." She pushed past him. Ron watched her go, his face darkening.

"If Malfoy said anything cruel to her…"

"You heard what she said to him, Ron. What would you expect?" Hermione snapped. "Leave her alone. Sometimes people just don't consider the feelings of the ones they're leaving behind."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Hermione, you'd think Harry was going to his death, they way you speak."

She glared at him. "Don't say such things."

Harry shook his head, and started down the stairs. Mrs. Weasley was in the kitchen, tending to the breakfast; the twins were beside her.

"Mrs. Weasley?"

"Hello again, Harry. I'm sorry I wasn't able to greet you sooner, but with Mr. Malfoy leaving, and Ginny and…" she stopped as she caught sight of Harry's sack slung over his shoulder. "Are you going somewhere, dear?"

"I'm afraid I have to be leaving, Mrs. Weasley."

"So soon? But…Dumbledore said…Harry, are you sure?"

He nodded. "Thank you for your kindness, Mrs. Weasley—but I'm afraid there is something important that I forgot to do, and I have to go back to Surrey. I'm sure I'll see you again soon. Tell Mr. Weasley thank you as well?"

"Well," she looked suspiciously at him, but gave him a quick hug. "Of course I will. You know you are always welcome."

Hermione was still pouting when he reached into the Weasley's rapidly shrinking bucket of Floo Powder a few minutes later.

"I'll send some up when I get the chance," he whispered to Ron, feeling slightly guilty for using up some of their limited supply.

Ron's ears went slightly pink. " 'S nothing, we'll manage."

Harry nodded at Hermione. Ginny, having come down to see him off, was standing beside her. Both girls were staring at him rather coldly. He turned back to Ron. "Make sure you talk some sense into her, right?"

Ron frowned. "I'll do my best. But you know Hermione…"

Harry grinned. "Good luck."

"Take care of yourself, mate," Ron said, slapping his shoulder.

He nodded, and stepped into the Floo. "I'm going to stop by the Order, first…"

"What?" Hermione's face immediately became concerned. "Harry, are you certain? It's…"

"I want to talk to Professor Dumbledore, and I can't get to Hogwarts," he said forcefully. He also needed to see if the Floo to his Aunt and Uncle's fireplace had been cleared. The last time the Weasley's had tried to use it, they had gotten stuck behind the decorative plug his Aunt Petunia had placed inside it.

He raised his fistful of Floo Powder, glancing for a moment over the group gathered around to watch him go. The warm surroundings were ten thousand times better than those he would find at Privet Drive.

Malfoy's unpleasant face floated into view. _They're all in danger_…

He dropped the powder into the grating. "Number 12 Grimmauld Place."

* * *

Ginny backed away as the large green flames consumed Harry, lightning the room around them. The flames died away quickly, taking the spinning Harry with them.

Hermione's face dropped as soon as he disappeared. Ginny knew how she felt.

_They go off, thinking its alright to face all their problems by themselves. They don't even take into consideration how others might feel. _

"He'll be alright, Hermione," Ginny said softly, placing a hand on her friend's shoulder.

"I'm sure he will be," said Hermione coldly. "Harry can take care of himself—or at least he thinks he can. I'm certain that if he comes up against an army of trolls, he'll just wave his wand and turn them all into flowers. Next thing you know, your brother will be riding off to face dragons."

"My brother does fight with dragons," giggled Ginny.

"Not _that_ one," said Hermione loudly, still frustrated. Ron turned to look her, raising an eyebrow. Hermione blushed.

"He'll be alright, Hermione. They both will. Trust in Harry. He _does_ know what he's doing."

"Right."

"Hermione?" Ron said tentatively, coming over towards them. "Do you want to go up to Percy's old room? He's got loads of books I'm sure you haven't …"

"I'm going to help Mrs. Weasley," Hermione interrupted.

Ron sighed as she moved towards the kitchen. "I just don't understand her, sometimes. She's got a big heart, Hermione does…but…what Harry needed was for her to be a bit more understanding. You know how much he wanted to stay. That he actually left shows how much he was concerned for our safety."

"Hermione's just worried about him, is all," said Ginny. "Harry doesn't tend to think about how his actions will affect others. I know he's doing what he's doing to protect us, but still…"

"He _doesn't_ consider how others might worry. That's just Harry. He's spent the last few years of his life saving people inadvertently, maybe with a bit of luck, but mostly because he's so determined to protect everyone he doesn't think of the consequences to himself. But he doesn't see it that way. He sees everything that's happened—Tom Riddle taking over you, You-Know-Who coming back, Diggory getting killed—even Sirius—as his fault, because he didn't know how to protect everyone from the start. Now he's going to do everything he can to avoid getting people into danger, even if it means facing people like You-Know-Who by himself."

"Sometimes that just places people more in danger, you know. We all have hero complexes—especially in this family. Even you."

Ron frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Ginny smiled.

"Huh. At least _you're_ smiling again. What did Malfoy say to you? If he…"

"He didn't say…anything. Don't ask me again."

"Ginny…"

"Come on. At least we can give Hermione a hand," she said, leading the way into the kitchen.

* * *

"Harry, there was no need for you to be so cautious. I can guarantee the Weasleys will be perfectly safe while you are staying there."

"But, Professor…"

"Harry…I'm certain you understand that, by now, the Weasleys have brought as much danger upon themselves as you have. It was the choice they made when they decided to stand against the Death Eaters. It was a choice _everyone_ in the Order made."

Harry nodded, trying not to look up at him. It was slightly difficult to do when your head was in one place and your body in another.

Professor Dumbledore was pacing back and forth in front of the Floo in his office, where Harry had appeared—or rather, Harry's head had appeared. His body remained in an uncomfortable crouch on the living room floor at Grimmauld Place.

"But…Professor…Voldemort is looking for me," said Harry, trying to avoid Professor Dumbledore's eyes. "If he finds me at the Weasleys…"

"I hardly think Lord Voldemort will be searching for you personally, Harry—at least not right now. You are still a mystery to him—he will not run the risk of being threatened by your uncanny ability to elude him."

"What about Privet Drive? I thought…"

"It is impossible to ensure your protection for a long period of time, of course. Events like the Dementor attack upon you and your cousin last year are an example of how unusual circumstances may arise that we may not always be prepared for. Your Aunt's protection is the best you have in the long term. But for the two weeks you have to remain with the Weasleys, be assured that you and they will be safe and protected."

Harry paused for a moment; he would much rather return to the Burrow than Privet Drive. _But Malfoy said…_

"I know that there is a guest visiting with the Weasleys for a brief time; I believe by the time you return you will find he will be otherwise preoccupied."

Harry looked up at him; the Headmaster's eyes were twinkling. "Yes, Professor."

"Enjoy your time with your friends, Harry…and don't concern yourself with what Mister Malfoy says. I can assure you, he has his own worries."

"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore." Harry withdrew his head from the fire, coughing slightly at the puff of ash that rose from the slightly dusty fireplaces at Grimmauld Place. Professor Lupin was standing over him, looking weary.

"What did Professor Dumbledore have to say, Harry?"

Harry brushed some of the ash off his jumper. "He told me to return to The Burrow, at least until term begins—if it begins…"

"Don't worry," said Professor Lupin with a smile. "I have it on very good authority that term will commence as planned. I don't believe the Ministry will allow _anything_ to approach within 50 miles of the school, after what happened last year."

"I hope so. I would hate to return to the Dursleys for an entire year."

"Perhaps Dumbledore would allow you to remain here, if…"

"That's alright," said Harry quickly. "I'd…I'd almost rather be there."

Lupin looked at him sadly. "What happened to Sirius was not your fault, Harry."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Harry…"  
"I _don't_ want to talk about it!" Harry pushed himself to his feet. "I should get back to the Burrow. Ron's having to deal with Hermione _and_ Ginny right now."

Professor Lupin sighed. "If you need anything, make sure to send Hedwig, or one of the Weasley owls. I'm here for you Harry, whenever you need me."

"Thanks, Professor," said Harry. "I'm going to get my things."

He could feel Professor Lupin's eyes on his back as he trudged towards the staircase. He tried not to look at the tapestry of the Black family tree, hanging on the wall, where Sirius's name was burned out.

_Sirius…I'm sorry…_

He walked away from Professor Lupin as swiftly as he could. He wanted to leave quickly and he missed the warm comfort of The Burrow.

Grimmauld Place was full of too many memories.

* * *

"It has been a…_pleasure _to have you here, Draco. Are you ready?" Mr. Crumholtz gestured towards an ornate goblet on the table.

"This Portkey has been designed to transport you back to Malfoy Manor. It was given to us by your mother, to ensure your safe return."

Draco stared at the cup, a lump rising in his throat. He'd stopped three times on the way back to Castor Manor, uncertain if he should turn around and say something to Ginny. He didn't want to leave things where they stood.

_But…I can't return to my Mother simpering like a baby because my girlfriend disagrees with me. _

"Draco?"

Mrs. Crumholtz had her head tilted to the side, blinking at him. "Draco, are you ready?"

"I…I…"

"Draco?"

_Ginny…_

"Draco, you don't have much time."

"Mr. Crumholtz, Mrs. Crumholtz, thank you for your hospitality," Draco cried, untying his cloak. He swirled it around the Portkey, careful not to touch the object with his hand, and gathered it up into his arms. "I will give your best wishes to my Mother."

"DRACO!"

"Goodbye," he called, racing towards the door.

* * *

Ginny sat on the porch outside the Burrow, watching as the sun slowly sank beneath the treetops in the distance.

She couldn't believe Draco had left her without bothering to apologize.

_He's such a prat! Just like Harry, refusing to listen to reason…they're more similar than they think, those two…_

She grinned, imagining what Draco would say if he knew she'd just compared him to Harry.

"Are you feeling better?"

She jumped; it was the last voice she was expecting to hear, particularly considering she'd just been thinking about him.

"Harry!"

Harry stepped out onto the porch, running a hand through his wild dark hair, and breathing in the nighttime air softly. He looked rather sad.

"What…what are you doing back? I thought you were going to the Order, and then to your Aunt and Uncle's…"

"Professor Dumbledore wagers that you lot are no safer whether I'm here or not, so might as well make ourselves targets together."

"Harry."

He grinned. "I'm glad, actually…I didn't really want to leave. But I have to be careful, because I don't want…"

"Anyone else to get hurt?"

He looked rather sheepishly at her. "I suppose that's becoming something you hear all the time."

"With you, yes," she said curtly. "Except that usually you're yelling it at one of us."

"Right…er…sorry."

"Never mind. We're all accustomed to it, by now. I'm just glad you're back. Has no one else seen you?"

He shook his head. "I didn't see anyone when I came back through the Floo, though I'm sure quite a few people will be surprised."

"Mum and Dad went out for a bit, and Bill's returned to London, as have the twins. Hermione and Ron, I think, are up in Percy's old room, reading some of his old books. It was the only thing he could think of to take her mind off…well…you."

"And…Malfoy?" he asked nonchalantly.

She frowned. "He's gone for good, I daresay. Didn't even _bother_ to apologize."

"Well…" he looked slightly uncomfortable. "I suppose I should go and rescue Ron. I rather fancy some Quidditch practice right now," he started to turn away, then stopped, leaning over to place a hand on her shoulder.

"Everything will work out, Ginny, I'm sure. I have faith in you. And I have hope for what you're trying to do, even if it's not _my_ idea of a pleasant way to spend a day."

She smirked. "I could say the same about you."

He grinned.

"WHAT ARE _YOU_ STILL DOING HERE, POTTER?"

Ginny turned from him, rising to her feet in surprise. Draco was standing on the path in front of the porch, his cloak and clothes bundled haphazardly in his hands, staring from her to Harry with a dark expression. Someone upstairs in The Burrow stirred; boards creaked and a door slammed.

"Draco?"

Harry moved in front of her, his green eyes narrowing. "What are you doing back here, Malfoy? I thought you'd gone for good."

Hermione and Ron emerged from the doorway.

"Harry!" Hermione cried, ignoring Malfoy and nearly knocking him over, "are you back?"

"Back?" hissed Draco. "You mean you left, and then you came back? What, are you mental?" Harry dislodged himself gently from Hermione's grasp.

"I could ask the same about you, Draco," said Ginny coldly, cutting Harry off before he could reply. "What are _you_ doing here?"

Draco glanced between her and Harry confusedly, "I…I…came…I came to…"

"She already told you to leave once, _Malfoy_" said Ron.

"I came to speak with Ginny, not you, Weaselbeak," Malfoy snapped. "I didn't expect to find Potter still here, putting _everyone _in danger yet again. Didn't I warn you earlier, Scarhead? The Death Eaters know you're here!"

"So _that's_ why you decided to leave," said Hermione, raising an eyebrow.

"And for your own good, mud—"

"DRACO!" Ginny yelled.

"I've had about enough of you today, Malfoy!" yelled Ron, bolting from the porch and withdrawing his wand. Draco tossed his cloak aside, pulling his own wand from his robes.

"STOP!" Ginny said, placing herself between them as Harry grasped the neck of Ron's robes, yanking him back. Hermione was eyeing the goblet Draco had dropped warily.

Ginny grabbed Draco by the arms. "Why do you always make everything worse than it already is?" she cried

He stopped glaring at Ron for a moment, and turned to her, startled. "What?"

"I...I mean that you seem to want to make things more difficult for yourself..."

He lowered his wand. Ron and Harry stared at him in surprise.

"I came here to apologize for today," he said softly, yanking his arm from her grasp, "but I see that was a waste of my time."

"Draco..."

"Goodbye, Ginny."

"Draco, wait..."

"Good riddance...and take this with you," said Ron, bending over towards the cup. Harry and Hermione both jumped.

"RON! NO!" they cried in unison.

"Don't touch that!" Draco said, shoving Ginny aside and bolting for the cup just as Ron touched the stem. "Weasley, you moron!" His fingers closed over Ron's, trying to wrench the cup from her brother's grasp.

"What the bloody—" cried Ron, as the Portkey lit up. Ginny, Harry and Hermione watched in horror as it swallowed Draco and Ron together, their twisted forms disappearing slowly, hands still locked over the stem.

Within moments, they were gone.

"Where…where did they go?" said Hermione.

Harry glanced over at her. "My best guess? Malfoy carrying it with him would mean…Malfoy Manor."

Hermione's hand rose to her mouth. "Oh, no…"

"But…they have a Floo Network there, right, Ginny?" asked Harry quickly. "He should be able to come right back."

She turned to him. "He should…but…Narcissa Malfoy's coming home tonight. Who _knows _who's going to be there. If the other Death Eaters…"

"Ron," Hermione whimpered.

"I'm sure he'll be fine," said Harry. "Malfoy is no more eager to be seen with a Weasley by his Mum than Ron is to be seen with him. I'm sure he'll be back as soon as he can."

Ginny swallowed. Draco had left before she'd had the chance to apologize. And now, he was stuck with her brother, in the last place her brother had ever wanted to see. She shuddered.

"If he doesn't get himself killed first."

_Thanks to all those who wrote reviews of "In the Shadows"…it was those reviews that inspired me to begin the sequel to it. I hope this meets with expectations: I am still trying to remain close to canon, but, of course, it becomes more difficult the less we know of what is going to happen. I'm going to introduce a few characters that I neglected to do much with in the first story—moving away from her story a bit, but, hey, it is a D/G fic, isn't it?_

_Chapter 2 brings, of course, Ron's introduction to Malfoy Manor (thanks to all who pointed out in their reviews that Ron needs work as a character—I plan to give him some much needed "air time" in this story), as well as a scene I've already written—an interesting interaction between Lucius and Draco, as father and son see each other for the first time since Draco's Patronus saved Hogwarts…_


	2. Return to Malfoy Manor

_Here it is…much toiled after chapter 2. Strangely enough, the final seven pages took the least amount of time, and they are by far my favorite part of the story. Ron's character development, what little there is, took so much time to write! But here are necessary interactions for the rest of the story, so it was worth it in the end._

_But I still love Lucius and Draco, they are my favorite…so stick around until the very end, I promise, its worth it. _

Out of the Shadows 2: Shades of Malfoy

Draco squeezed his eyes shut, waiting until the spinning stopped. The tight pulling on his stomach loosened and he was pitched forward, slammed forcefully onto a rough stone path.

"Bloody Hell!" someone said beside him.

Draco frowned. He'd recognize that foul, foolish expression anywhere.

"Weasley…"

He pushed himself to his knees, and opened his eyes. Ron Weasley—that stupid excuse for a pureblood wizard—was wobbling unsteadily on his feet, and clutching his stomach.

Right on the front lawn of Malfoy Manor.

Draco rose to his feet, and marched over to Weasley, seizing the back of his robes. "Weasley, you bloody fool!"

Weasley shook himself from Malfoy's grip, " 'ger off, Malfoy."

"Love to…but as you're on _my_ property I would suggest you 'ger off _first._"

"No PROBLEM," Weasley replied, catching sight of the discarded goblet and quickly picking it up.

He stood there stupidly for a moment, staring from the Goblet to his still whole form. Draco crossed his arms, smirking.

"It's a one way Portkey, you idiot."

Ron dropped the cup, a nasty snarl curling across his face. "Say one more thing to me, Malfoy, and I swear I'll…"

"You'll what? Attack me on my own front lawn? Don't think my Mum, who's back from _Azkaban_, would look to kindly upon that. I'm already going to have to sneak you into the Manor in the first place, though I don't know why I should even bother."

"Why bother? Your dungeons have already seen one Weasley, right? What difference will two make?"

Draco felt the blood rushing to his face. "Do you think I _want_ to be caught with you? Having to explain your presence here means explaining why I was at your house in the first place, when I should have come directly home."

Weasley stared at him for a moment. "So...you're not going to turn me in?"

"Turn you into what?" Draco kicked the cup across the lawn, slamming it into the nearby trunk of the tree. "Believe me, there are hundred of things I'd _love_ to turn you into, but Ginny would never forgive me. Not that she'd care, with Potter there to comfort her…" he paused, remembering Potter's hand on her shoulder.

_PRAT!_

He glanced over at Weasley. The red-head was staring at him in stony silence, one eyebrow arched. He looked almost—amused…

"Let's go," Draco snarled.

"What are you planning to do?" asked Weasley hesitantly.

"I'll take you in the Front Hall—Mother will more than likely be in her study. One of the House Elves can take you to a Floo outlet." He shuffled slowly along the path, hoping his Mother wasn't waiting for him to arrive.

* * *

Ron watched Malfoy walk up the large front path, towards the hulking doors of what he could only assume was Malfoy Manor. Despite the nauseous feeling in his stomach, he was slightly curious to see inside the Manor House of the most evil family in the wizarding world. 

_Not even Harry has been here…_

Ginny had, though. He wouldn't have expected anything else—everyone beat him to something.

"Hey."

Malfoy was staring at him murderously, waiting on the huge stone causeway that marked the entrance to his home. "If you'd rather wait on the front lawn…this isn't a particularly _Weasley_ friendly neighborhood."

"Neighborhood?" Ron said snidely, gazing around at the vast, empty land that surrounded the manor. There wasn't a light within miles of the Manor. "Bet they must really bother your nerves."

"No, but they wouldn't take pity on yours. Now come on."

Ron stared at the huge mansion, his heart pounding in his chest, and stepped towards the arcing doorway of the last place in the wizarding world he'd ever thought he'd be.

* * *

"This is not good. This is not good at all. Not good at all." 

Harry sighed. "Hermione, would you please sit down? Wearing down the floorboards will not bring Ron back."

Hermione glared at him. "How can you just sit there when Ron might be in very serious trouble?"

"He's with Draco, Hermione. Ron will be fine. You need to relax," said Ginny from her position next to Harry.

"_RELAX?" _shrieked Hermione. "Have you forgotten what happened the last time _you_ were at Malfoy Manor?"

"NO," said Ginny coldly. "Do you really think I could?"

Hermione puffed up for a moment, arms crossed, assuming a stance exactly like Ginny's mum. Ginny frowned at her, and she sighed, lowering her hands. "Of course not, Ginny. And that's why I'm worried."

"But since that time, _Hermione_," said Ginny harshly, "Bellatrix was killed and Draco became my…well, Draco is slightly more sympathetic to the Weasleys."

"Not to _Ron._"

"Ron can take care of himself," said Harry, looking slightly ruffled. "You shouldn't worry so much. Is this why Ron is always complaining about your being a worry wart?"

"She does it more when it's you," Ginny said with a small smile.

"I do NOT!" huffed Hermione. "What do you suggest we do, then? Sit here and study?"

"That isn't exactly—wait a moment—isn't that for you to suggest?"

"HARRY POTTER!"

"What on Earth is going on in here?" said Mrs. Weasley, walking into the kitchen with a bag full of groceries. "I could hear you out in the drive." She caught sight of the trio at the table. "Harry, why are you still here? I thought you'd left for London."

"Professor Dumbledore suggested I come back here—it's safest."

"Of course it is," she said with a smile, and turned to her groceries. "Now, why were you shouting, Hermione dear? You seem preoccupied."

"Mum, Ron's left," said Ginny quickly, before Hermione could answer.

"Left? Where to?"

"He…went to go visit…with Draco."

"_What_?" Mrs. Weasley cried. "Visit with Draco Malfoy? Why in the name of Albus Dumbledore would he do that?"

"He has something to speak about him with," Ginny said nonchalantly, leaning back in her chair. Harry and Hermione were staring at her.

"Is that…safe?" said Mrs. Weasley worriedly.

"Perfectly," said Ginny with a smile. "I already warned Draco not to be too harsh with him. I wouldn't worry…"

"Why were you shouting, then?"

"Ah…"

"I believe Hermione's a bit concerned about the location, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry quickly. "Doesn't believe Malfoy Manor's safe."

"MALFOY MANOR!"

Ginny shrank back in her chair as Mrs. Weasley whirled back towards them, her round face red.

"HE WENT TO MALFOY MANOR!"

"R-relax, Mum."

"RELAX? RELAX! Ron's gone _all the way_ to Malfoy Manor—the night before the trial of Narcissa Malfoy—to talk to a boy he can't stand about—what… QUIDDITCH?_"_

"Er…Yes," said Harry quickly.

"What?" replied Mrs. Weasley rounding on him. "What sort of a fools…"

"Draco," he said with slight displeasure, "told Ron he might look at one of his old brooms."

"Draco Malfoy…agreed to let _Ron_ have one of his old brooms. And decided that it would be best to do this the day his mother returns to her Manor home?"

"You know how boys are about Quidditch," said Hermione, wide-eyed, trying to sound convincing.

"But Malfoy _Manor_?"

"I'm sure it wasn't just about the broom," said Ginny. "You know how Ron is, always wanting to solve his problems without letting anyone know about them. He was rather suspicious about the whole thing—so who knows why he really went? Maybe he didn't want us to know that he was going to talk to Draco about something else, and covered it up by telling us it was about Quidditch."

Mrs. Weasley stared at her for a moment, a loaf of bread still in her hand, one eyebrow raised. "What could Ron _possibly_ have to speak to Draco about at a time like this?"

"I don't know! Mrs. Malfoy's trial? Maybe he wanted to tell him about the Wizengamot, or something? Or maybe…me," she added quietly. "Draco and I did get into a fight before he left. Maybe Ron wanted to explain something?"

Hermione sighed heavily. "Because he'd be the first person to try and smooth things over," she hissed quietly.

Harry shot her a pleading look.

"I'm sure he'll be back soon, Mum."

Mrs. Weasley continued to stare at Ginny, who lowered her head, allowing her thick curtain of red hair to hide her face. Ginny's mum sighed, softening slightly at her daughter's down turned shoulders.

"Perhaps…but why today, of all days? That seems rather irrational on Ron's part. Harry, what do you think about this?" she asked, turning to him..

"He didn't say anything to me about needing to talk to Malfoy," said Harry cautiously.

Ginny raised her head, glaring at him.

"—but perhaps he didn't want to say what he really needed to do—like Ginny says. Ron _has _been much quieter these days. And you know, history with Malfoy and all…"

"Well…he does have a great deal of good sense about him now…"

"I'm sure he'll be back soon, Mrs. Weasley, like Ginny says," said Hermione suddenly, her face calm. "He said he'd only be gone for a moment."

Mrs. Weasley glanced at her, a puzzled expression on her face. Hermione was looking calmly at Ron and Ginny's mum, her hands folded upon the table. All signs of agitation were quite gone.

"Very well," Mrs. Weasley said slowly. "But if he's not back by dinner I'm going to send Errol to the Manor to call for him."

As she walked back into the kitchen, Hermione leaned in towards them. "What are you doing?" she whispered. "Why would you lie about Ron's 'visiting' the Manor? We have absolutely no idea when he'll return!"

"If she finds out Ron left by accident, she'll panic. Narcissa Malfoy is back at the Manor. Malfoy will want to hide Ron until he can open a Floo and send him back. That will be as soon as possible, I'm certain."

"You really believe Draco is going to _hide _Ron so he can get back home?"

"After what happened with Ginny? I don't think Malfoy wants any part of Ginny's family anywhere near his Mum," said Harry, leaning over to pat her hand. "I'm absolutely certain he's going to find a way to get Ron back safely and as soon as possible."

"Let's hope so," said Hermione softly. "For Ron's sake."

They sat in silence for a few moments, Harry pensively staring at the fire, Ginny with her hands on her chin, lost in thought. Hermione thumbed through the pages of one of Mrs. Weasley's cookbooks absentmindedly. Ginny's Mum hummed in the background.

"Bloody Hell," cried Harry suddenly.

Mrs. Weasley stopped humming and popped her head in the kitchen. "Is something the matter dear?"

"N-no, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry, his eyes still on the fireplace. "I scratched my arm."

"Be careful of that table, dear," said Ginny's Mum, returning to the kitchen. "It needs to be polished again."

"What's wrong, Harry?" asked Ginny quietly.

"The Floo," he said quickly, leaning in towards them and keeping an eye on Mrs. Weasley, who was still bustling about by the stove. "We've been saying all this time we'll be waiting for him by Floo…but…are we so certain Ron will be able to get back here by Floo?"

"What do you mean?"

Hermione's eyes widened. "Of course…with Mrs. Malfoy at home…"

"What?"

"Ginny," said Harry worriedly, "with Narcissa Malfoy at her Manor, the Ministry will want to monitor her—make sure she can't escape."

"Meaning…they'll have shut all the Floo down around her house," Ginny finished, eyes widening. "I didn't think of that!"

"What do we do?" asked Hermione, wide-eyed. Her lower lip was trembling.

"Nothing," said Harry gravely. "We can't go jaunting off to Malfoy Manor ourselves. There's nothing we can do. I hate to say it, but our only hope lies with Malfoy."

* * *

The halls of Malfoy Manor had never appeared colder, since his visit to the warm comfort of The Burrow. 

But it was still home, and Draco was glad to be there.

The halls were lit dimly, as he expected they would be after such a long vacancy by the family.

The mantelpieces were dusted, however, and the brass fixtures shone—nothing less for his Mother. She would most certainly notice if even one part of the house was out of place.

"Stay back," he whispered to Weasley. If he remembered correctly, he only had about twenty seconds or so.

He received no response. Draco turned. The Weasel was casting about the room, his mouth open—and not paying attention at all.

_Figures…how he can be related to Ginny, I'll never know._

"Weasley!" he hissed.

Weasley snapped to attention. "What?"

"The curtain!" Draco motioned to one of the heavy tapestries that lined the foyer. "Over there!"

Weasley glared at him. "You want me to hide behind the curtain? A bit foolish, that, isn't it?"

"Foolish?"

"Yes, foolish. Or do you really think no one will notice the large, tall bump standing against the _perfectly straight wall._"

Draco motioned upwards, glaring at him. "They're suspended from the ceiling, you prat. There's a good foot of space between them and the wall. Just make sure you hide those yardsticks you call feet."

"Can't I just go to your room or something?"

"Later—there isn't time now!"

"But…"

"JUST DO WHAT I SAY!"

"Master Draco?"

"_NOW_!"

Weasley didn't argue; though his face was bright red. After a moment he darted behind one of the tall tapestries.

"Master Draco?"

"Archibald?" Draco hurriedly unfurled his cloak, brushing off the dirt. "Archibald, I am here!"

There was a loud crack, and a stately looking House Elf emerged, his ears pulled back, his pillowcase neatly pressed.

"Master Draco. Welcome home, sir. We've been expecting you for quite some time. I am glad to see you have arrived safely."

"Thank you. When did Mother arrive?"

"Early this afternoon, Sir. She's awaiting your arrival in the Dining Hall."

"Thank you...Archibald, can you prepare the Floo in my room, please?"

"Sir?"

"I have a message to send to…a friend's house. I'll direct the location, I just need you to start the fire."

"I'm terribly sorry sir…the Floo is inaccessible at the moment."

"_WHAT_!"

Archibald jumped. "What was that?"

Draco flinched, glancing furiously at the curtain. "I said 'WHAT!' Is something wrong with that?"

"N-no, Sir."

"Why aren't the Floo working, Archibald?"

"Sir…I would have thought you would expect…with your Mother returned but not yet cleared…the Ministry…"

"…has sealed up the Floo," finished Draco, rubbing his forehead with his fingertips. "Smashing. Thank you, Archibald. Please tell Mother I will join her in a moment."

"Yes Sir," said Archibald, casting one last suspicious look at the tapestry.

"Archibald, I said to go."

"Archibald goes, sir," said the stately House Elf, slipping into self-address as was his custom when he was agitated. "Archibald will inform your Mother you have finally returned."

With a small pop, he was gone.

"Bloody Brilliant. Now what do we do?" Weasley shoved the tapestry aside roughly.

"Watch it, Weasley. That piece of fabric is worth ten of you _and_ your home."

"Which I'd very much like to get back to, _Malfoy_. How am I bloody going to do that without a Floo?"

"Shut up for a moment, will you? I'll think of something."

"Draco?"

Draco turned as a high voice echoed down the hall. "Brilliant. Archibald's already told her."

He turned to Weasley. "My Mother is coming. If she sees you, we'll both be in a great deal more trouble than I'd care to deal with."

"What am I supposed to do…jump behind the curtain again? Something tells me your Mum won't be as absentminded as a House Elf."

"TENNY!" Draco hissed suddenly. "TENNY! Emerge!"

In a matter of seconds, a sharp crack announced the arrival of another House Elf—this time, a small withered female. Tenny, the nursemaid, stared up at him gleefully. "Master Draco! You is back, Sir!"

"Take him to my room, Tenny. NOW!"

Tenny turned around, wide eyed. Weasley had his arms crossed and was staring at the House Elf tenuously.

"Who is this, Sir?"

"No time!" He grabbed her by her crisp pillow sheet and shoved her into Weasley. "NOW!"

"Y-y-yes Sir!" Tenny seized the Gryffindor's hand sharply and disappeared, taking an open-mouthed Weasley with her.

"Draco? Are you there?"

Draco straightened, smoothing his hair quickly. "M-mother?"

Narcissa Malfoy appeared in the Foyer. "Draco! What is taking you? Why haven't you…" she surveyed his rumpled clothing, and dirty cloak. "What have you been doing?"

"Sorry I'm late, Mother," he said quickly, moving over to her. She embraced him softly. To his surprise he now stood taller than she—and his mother was not a short woman."

_I've been away from her too long…_

"I'm sorry, Mother. I should have been here sooner," he said, hugging her back.

"Quite alright, Draco, though your reasons for being _detained _are less than pleasing. However, Alluise has prepared a wonderful dinner and I expect you're quite hungry."

"Yes, I just have to place a few things in my room…change…"

"That does not matter. We have been too long apart to stand on formality. And certainly you experienced none on your recent visit to the country."

"Of course not, Mother."

"Then…shall we?"

Draco followed behind her, as she turned. _I hope The Weasel can manage an hour without me._

* * *

Ron coughed, waving his hand about to clear the air. The House Elf had been a bit over-anxious, and the result was a near explosion as she apparated into what he could only assume was Malfoy's room. 

Or rather, Malfoy's _suite_ of rooms.

As the smoke drifted away, he found himself in a richly textured sitting area—dark green, with lush embellishments of silver and black. Handsome tapestries hung on the wall, along with a variety of ancient hangings. Above a rich, chestnut desk hung a series of brooms—a set used by a child, as he was growing up.

_Must be nice to have all these luxuries_…

"Are you a Weezy?"

Ron jumped. "I'm sorry?"

"Are you a Mr. Weezy?"

The voice was coming down by his feet.

A tiny old house elf—older than he'd ever seen—was standing beside him, her arms behind her back, and grinning. It was the one Malfoy had shoved at him.

Hermione would be angry with that.

"You look like a Weezy."

"My name is Ron _Weasley_, if that's what you mean…" Dobby had always referred to him as Weezy—something to do with their pronunciation.

"You have a sister, yes? Or a cousin, yes?"

"I have a sister…may I ask who you are? And why you are so interested in my family name?"

"Tenny has met your sister, the Miss Weezy," the little Elf said, very nearly bouncing in excitement. "Tenny is honored to meet you, sir. Tenny is very grateful to the Weezy. Tenny is caretaker to Master Draco, sir."

"I'm sorry."

"No, no, sir. Tenny is honored. Tenny is very honored indeed, especially as she is meeting another Weezy."

Ron smiled. "You can call me Ron. So you…met Ginny, when she was here?"

"Yes!" Tenny clapped her hands for a moment, then stopped, her face drooping. "Tenny is sorry she couldn't prevent Miss Weezy from pain."

Ron's mouth twisted. "You saw her get attacked?"

"Yes sir. The Mistress's sister…she was very cruel to Miss Weezy. To use unforgiving curses…Tenny was so sorry they happened to Miss Weezy."

"Unforgiving…you mean _unforgivable curses?_" said Ron. "You saw her use the _Cruciatus _Curse?"

"Curses, sir. Yes, sir."

Ron felt the blood drain from his face. "Ginny didn't tell me she'd been struck more than once—just that she'd been knocked out and thrown in the dungeons."

"Well…" Tenny placed a hand to her leathery cheek. "Tenny is sorry, sir. But she was protected by Master Draco, sir. He risked himself to save the Miss Weezy, sir."

"What?" said Ron, barely hearing her. Waves of heat were coursing through body.

"Master Draco—he placed himself between Miss Weezy and his Aunt. The Mistress then stopped the Miss Bella from the attacks."

"Malfoy did that?" said Ron. The rushing sound in his head—along with the sudden urge to strangle Malfoy—started to fade.

"Yes sir," Tenny's grin grew wide. "Miss Weezy has been very good for Master Draco. He is not so like Master Lucius now. Tenny is very, very glad for her."

Ron stared at her confusedly. He really had no idea what to say.

"Ah! Tenny is being summoned. Please to wait here in Master Draco's rooms, sir, and Tenny will return shortly."

"Wait…Tenny!"

The small House Elf snapped her fingers, and was gone in a flash.

"Wonderful." Ron cast about the room. "Waiting…for Malfoy. _In _Malfoy's Room. _In_ Malfoy Manor. Exactly the _last_ thing I want to do."

* * *

"Barrister Murray believes that I have quite a strong case." Draco's mother said as she sipped calmly on her tea, smiling at him. "He says they may be able to argue that I was trying to save my own life as well as the lives of those around me. The Wizengamot will be willing to listen." 

Draco stared at her for a moment. She looked extremely pale, and much slimmer than she had before she left. There were deep shadows under her eyes, and her smile was wan, and cold.

Azkaban Prison tended to have that affect on people.

"How…how did you fare, Mother?"  
His mother's eyes tightened ever so slightly on the sides. "It was not so terribly difficult."

"Are the…_guards_ still there?"

She set down her cup. "Thankfully, they are limited. I suppose I have Bellatrix, ironically enough, to thank for that. More human wizards than Dementors are now in charge of the prison—although, as far as Dementors—there are enough."

He placed a hand on the one wrapped around her teacup. "I'm glad you've returned, Mother."

"Are you really, Draco?"

Ginny's voice flooded through his head.

_Have you killed anybody yet? You are not your father…_

_I guess now I'm not like my mother either…_

"Draco?"

He removed his hand. "Did you see Father there?"

Narcissa's face grew pinched. "I'm afraid I did not. I might have had that option, but I believe, as does Mr. Murray, that associating with anyone connected to Bellatrix would look extremely bad to the Council. I understand that he is surviving, however."

Draco glanced aside. His mother sounded so cold…would his Father have made the same choice?

_Mrs. Weasley would never have allowed HER husband to be left alone. She would have sacrificed her chance at life just for one moment with him…_

"Draco?"

"I believe he will be all right. Father, I mean."

"Your father can take care of himself," Narcissa said cautiously. "Nobody, not even the guards of Azkaban, would dare to cross him. You understand _why_ I was forced to avoid him, right, Draco?"

Draco didn't answer for a moment. His Mother's eyes tightened.

"Draco…"

"Of course," he said softly. "I'm glad you've been careful—and I'm certain Barrister Murray will be able to convince the Wizengamot of your innocence."

"Draco, you are most certainly out of character right now," his Mother commented. "So inattentive and doubtful. What _is_ the matter with you?"

Draco blushed. "Nothing…"

Narcissa stared at him, her mouth drawing into a thin line. "Never mind. By that expression on your face I can guess what you're thinking about. Or rather, _who. _In fact, I should have known from the beginning."

"You're wrong, Mother. I wasn't thinking of her."

"Draco, you're always thinking of her, whether you mean to or not."

He sighed. "Mother…"

"How did you visit to little…where is it? Catch raft Otter?

"Ottery St. Catchpole."

"You were not seen, I hope," she said darkly.

"By no one but the Crumholtzes, and they made sure I exercised caution. I stayed with them the entire time, Mother, never at The…_their_ house. I wouldn't have risked it," he mumbled.

"Were they…_cordial? _The Weasleys, I mean."

"Generally."

"Hmph. I suppose I should expect as much out of Molly Prewitt, she always was such a sniveling goody-goody in school, although she and Weasley did get into their fair share of trouble."

"Not much has changed."

Narcissa harrumphed. "I'm not surprised at _that_ either. Either way…I'm just glad your father doesn't know. I cannot even imagine what he might say."

"I appreciate your…understanding. Thank you for allowing me to go."

"I did not allow you to go—you would have left whether or not I approved. I simply didn't stand against it. I supposed its the least I can do, considering what they did for you last year. Just…lets not have her at the trial, shall we?"

"Of course not."

* * *

Mrs. Malfoy had cleaned his suite of rooms; Tenny, who'd tended to him since he was a boy, was waiting eagerly inside. 

"Master Draco!"

"Hullo, Tenny. Sorry for earlier."

"Master Draco apologizes!" Tenny smiled at him slyly. "Such a nice-nice thing."

Draco's face hardened, his eyes narrowing into slits. "Watch yourself, Teneesia. Impudence means clothes, you know that very well. You haven't done so very much that you have reign to speak to your Masters as though they were family."

The smile faded from the House Elf's face, and Draco felt a slight pang of guilt.

She moved over to his bed, smoothing it with a wrinkled hand. "How does the Young Miss, Master Draco?"

Draco rolled his eyes. Ever since the events of last year, when Tenny had helped to save Ginny's life, she'd been relentless in inquiring after Ginny. Certainly stepping out of the normal bounds of a House Elf.

Unlike the other Elves, though, Draco didn't have the heart to chastise her about Ginny. He owed her too much.

"She's doing well, Tenny, she says to say hello. And speaking of her—where is her brother?"

"Brother, sir?"

"Yes…the tall red-head you apparated in here with? The _other_ Weasley?"

"Ah, yes! The Mr. Weezy! He is in Master Draco's study."

"Has he been giving you trouble?"

"Tenny is not certain, sir."

"You haven't been to check on him?"

"Tenny has no time," she said nervously, her ears folding back

"Never mind," said Draco, unable to bear her pitiable expression. "Can you please watch the Dark Room, and make sure no one—especially my Mother—passes by?"

"Master Draco? What's should Tenny say if the Mistress is by?"

"Tell her that I'm to visit the rooftop and I wished the hall and stairs to be lit."

"Yes, sir," she disappeared.

He moved through his bedroom to his study, where the fireplace was softly flickering. In the far corner, the Weasel was curled into a corner, intently studying a large, aged volume.

"_Hogwarts, a History?_ Honestly, Weasley."

Weasley dropped the book with a thump, wincing as the weight of it fell upon his foot. "It happened to be here…I just wanted to find out what Hermione is always talking…why am I even bothering to explain myself to you?" he snarled suddenly.

"Why _indeed."_ Draco sneered. "You really ARE as clueless as they come."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You mean after three years of moping about you still haven't figured out what you're about with that…"

Weasley narrowed his eyes. "About with that what? What are you talking about?"

"Never mind. I have a few…_arrangements_ to make. Wait here, I'll return momentarily."

"With a few armed trolls, no doubt."

"Of course…since it'd be so much easier that way than to just throw you out the door."

"Or to the family basilisk."

"This is utterly exhausting. Look," Draco said, turning away from him, "obviously, I'm not going to do anything to you, or I'd risk the wrath of Ginny. Believe me, I'd much rather run the risk of upsetting _my_ mother, if Ginny's temper is anything like _your_ mother's."

"It's worse," said Weasley snidely.

"There you are," sighed Draco. "So for the moment, can we stop the blithering and just talk business?"

"Fine by me," said Weasley, picking the book back up.

"I'm going to post an owl. After that, we'll make our way up through the back halls to the roof. Hopefully someone will be waiting to take you."

"Take me where?"

"Anywhere…so long as its away from here."

"Fine by me," Weasley repeated.

Draco shook his head, and walked from the room.

The walk to the Owlery wasn't far; thankfully, his great gray Eagle owl was perched on the nearest roost, and immediately flew over to him. He stroked the owl's feathers. Normally, he would do, but this required speed—and only one owl would do.

Draco sketched out a quick note on the writing stand. A beautiful, sleek tawny bird was perched closest to the window—the fastest owl at Malfoy Manor.

"Take this to Henrietta," he whispered, stroking the bird's back. "And be quick. Come through to my room when you can."

He hoped the wizards monitoring the Manor wouldn't be able to understand the note he'd sent—or stop it on its way.

He made his way slowly back to his set of rooms, uneager to get back. The idea of even _attempting_ a civilized conversation with the Weasel turned his stomach.

He fingered his shirt absentmindedly, his hands rubbing over the small silver pin clipped there.

A prefects badge. It appeared to be a normal badge, with a small "P" engraved, to signify prefect. If one looked closer, however, they could see the small crest behind the P was actually the crest of Gryffindor.

Ginny had given him her badge, in exchange for his own. Only those who looked closely would be able to tell the difference.

Draco surveyed walls around him, taking in the comfortable surroundings which, only last year, had beheld one of the most frightening moments of his life—Ginny, injured and relying on him for protection, taken prisoner by his Aunt Bellatrix and dragged down to the Malfoy dungeons in front of his eyes. He'd given her his badge to assure her he wouldn't let her get hurt.

He'd broken that promise.

But Ginny hadn't given up on him. She'd clutched his badge through all his Aunt had done to her, clutching it so tightly that the seal of Slytherin had cut into her hand.

She'd trusted him. So much so, she'd endured his Aunt's tortures to make sure she'd see him again. When she offered her Prefect's badge for his, he'd taken it without hesitation—and had been proud to wear it.

He never believed he would wear anything that signified Gryffindor. But then, he _never_ imagined he would fall in love with someone _from_ Gryffindor.

Especially a Weasley.

And _especially_ a friend of Harry Potter.

Ginny had given him a photo for his mantelpiece as well, but he dare not place it upon the shelf. His mother had been very accepting, so long as she didn't have anything to remind her of the relationship. His Slytherin friends had been the same; so long as no one acknowledged anything was going on, they said nothing. Ginny didn't seem to mind the secrecy; though the residents of Gryffindor were supposed to be "noble," they were about as accepting of the idea as the Slytherins.

So the picture resided in his pocket. He pulled it out, a picture of Ginny waving gleefully at him. She looked much younger; she hadn't had a photo made for a few years, save the family photos at Christmas (which featured all the Weasleys, and Ginny hadn't wanted to press that on him). He stared at it fondly. He'd given her a small portrait his mother had painted and placed into a locket.

_Perfect_, Ginny had said, _this way I can keep it with me. I don't trust it on my bedside table, you know, with my brothers…_

He chucked at that thought of what that portrait might have to go through.

"Draco?"

One of the doors behind him swung open, and he quickly stuffed the picture back into the lapel pocket of his robes. "Mother?"

She watched him from the doorway. He hadn't even realized he'd passed by her suite of rooms.

"What are you doing wandering about the Manor?"

She was staring at him in confusion. He realized he was still grinning stupidly. His smile faded.

"I…had to go to the Owlery…"

"I see…" A look of extreme displeasure had crossed over her face. "I hope the letter you sent didn't contain anything too revealing, the Ministry will be screening them."

_She thinks I'm writing Ginny…_

"Of course not."

"Well…we'll be leaving for the Ministry early in the morning."

"Yes, Mother."

"Get some sleep, darling."

He nodded. Narcissa stared at him suspiciously, pausing for a moment to watch him, then shut the door.

A feeling of disgust washed through him. Thoughts of Ginny had the ability to give him peace, if only for a short while, but the moment the rest of his life intruded, the peace was gone.

But she'd placed her trust in him—in the badge he kept with him always. He would not fail her. He couldn't.

He moved towards the Night Wing, and started lighting the candles, hoping everything would be set for a smooth departure for The Weasel. There was a writing desk in the room at the far end of the corridor—his Mother had actually given him an idea.

Two forces were swirling inside him. If he didn't release something, a part of him was going to go mad. He just hoped when the time came, he could choose properly.

* * *

Ginny laughed, placing one hand on Harry's shoulder. Her Mum smiled sweetly at her. "I'm going to pull the pie from the oven. Would anyone like a piece?" 

"I'd love one Mrs. Weasley, thank you," said Harry politely. Hermione nodded as well.

"None for me, Mum," said Ginny. I'm not too hungry."

"Very well, I'll be right back."

Ginny sat back in her chair, sighing as her mother left the room. Harry buried his face in his hands, removing his glasses to rub his eyes, and Hermione's forced grin faded.

"What are we going to do?" she said worriedly. "We haven't heard a thing! Your mother will grow terribly suspicious if we don't hear something soon."

"And do something," added Harry. His eyes were tight. "I hope Ron's alright."

"What can we do but wait? And keep up conversation?"

"_Pretend_ conversation. If I have to force one more joke, I'll scream."

"I'll do the same with any more food," said Hermione, holding her stomach.

"Just for a little while longer. Hopefully, Ron will be back soon," said Ginny, a grin spreading across her face as her Mother re-entered the room.

Hermione glanced at her, swallowed, then picked up her fork. "Pie looks wonderful, Mrs. Weasley."

"Thank you, dear. I'll make sure to cut you the biggest slice."

* * *

Draco returned to his room a few moments later. As he turned the door handle, he was surprised to find it felt slightly weighted. 

He pushed against it; with a sound like air leaving a sealed coffin it slid open.

The loudest racket he'd ever heard in the halls of the Manor filtered out. He quickly slammed the door shut—both of which closed behind him with a sickening _squelch_—and turned towards the set of double doors, normally kept open, but closed now, where his bed chamber was.

Tenny was huddled up against the wall next to the doors, her ears completely flattened on the back of her head. She'd obviously placed some kind of House Elf sound-proofing charm on the walls and doors of his room to prevent the shouting from coming out. She jumped as he approached her.

"Tenny, what in the name of the Manor is going on here?"

"M…master Draco, sir! Tenny is sorry she could not do more but the Mister Weezy…"

"What's he doing in there?"

"He's being attacked, sir!"

"Attacked? By what?"

"By Magnus, sir!"

Draco pushed past her, throwing the doors open.

Weasley was standing atop his massive bed, a brocaded pillow raised in one hand, fending off a great tawny blur. There was a swirl of owl and down feathers flying all over the place, along with a few well placed drops of blood and a great lot of red hair.

What the bloody hell… 

Weasley was shrieking up a racket, bumping into bedposts and against the wall. Magnus was screaming bloody murder, his talons slashing at the Gryffindor menacingly. Ron struck out with a fist, barely clipping the owl. Magnus shrieked even louder, diving in for another attack.

A fresh wave of feathers rose from his pillow as a third one was ripped to shreds.

Weasley reached for the velvet canopy.

"Magnus!"

The owl paused in mid-air, letting out a half-cry, half-guttural caw. It flew towards him, soaring above his head before darting forward and alighting on the mantelpiece beside him, calmly plucking and settling its ruffled feathers.

Weasley lowered his shredded pillow, looking at him exhaustedly through the swirl of brown and white feathers that filled the room almost as thickly as snow. He was scratched in a few places, and his robes were torn.

"ABOUT--BLOODY--TIME. What the hell are you doing with a bird like that? I let him in and he started _attacking_ me."

Draco was having a rather difficult time maintaining a straight face. Something told him, however, that no matter how much the sight of Weasley tattered and cut from head to toe by owl talons pleased him, he probably should not laugh. "Magnus is rather protective, he doesn't particularly care for strangers.."

Weasley tossed the pillow aside, stepping down from the bed and sending up another shower of down feathers.. Draco glanced about the wreck that was his room, his face flushing.

"I hope that monster has brought your answer," Weasley said.

"Magnus isn't a monster. He's a loyal servant, much like your ghoul."

"My ghoul didn't try and rip you to pieces."

Draco reached for the small barrel tied to Magnus's leg, examining the bird as he went along. He stroked the owls feathers—it appeared Magnus had done more damage to Weasley than Weasley had done to him.

He scanned the note quickly, and grinned as he read the note.

Weasley blew a strand of disheveled hair out of his face. "_Please…_tell me that's good news."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Let's go, Weaselbeak. We have twenty minutes."

* * *

_Twenty minutes…don't know what bloody clock HE'S going by…_

Ron had twisted and turned through so many corridors, he was certain no one would be able to find him. Malfoy could be taking him to the darkest dungeons of Malfoy Manor, and no one would ever know.

"Are we going to _walk_ to The Burrow?"

"Just shut up and follow me, Weasley," Malfoy muttered.

They were moving through what Malfoy had referred to as "the Night Wing"—at least, that's where he'd told the little House Elf they were going. She'd simply shrugged, disappearing (to keep watch for Draco's Mum) with a final wink for Ron.

The hall in front of them slowly opened wider into a large galley sized foyer nearly three stories high. A dark set of doors appeared at the end of the hall. They were massive, stretching almost as high as the ceiling.

He raised an eyebrow.

The corridor split, running to the right and left of the monstrous set of doorways. The handle of the jet black doors were two twisted snakes, swallowing each others' tails. Ruby red eyes glimmered in the dim light.

Malfoy was turning down a smaller corridor to the left. Ron watched as he disappeared into the dark.

He couldn't help himself. This had to be important—nothing that strange and menacing in appearance wouldn't be—and he'd finally know something about the Malfoys no one else did.

He moved over to the doors.

They gave him an eerie feeling. There was a dried, crusty substance running down the wood, almost like…

_That can't be…blood…_

Ron shuddered again, placing a hand on one of the handles. The last time he'd seen such menacing snakes, they lead to a lair with a gigantic, seventy foot serpent king.

Or so Harry had told him.

"Don't touch it."

Ron jumped.

Malfoy moved out of the shadows, his eyes narrowed. "What do you think you are doing?"

"Finding out the great secret of Malfoy Manor."

"There IS no great secret of Malfoy Manor, you stupid idiot. Malfoy Manor is like any other home."

"With hidden dungeons and great black doors with twisted snake handles? Sorry, don't seem to recall anything like that at _The Burrow._"

"That's because you couldn't _afford_ them. Those door handles cost more than that whole sorry house put together. Those doors lead to nothing but another suite of room."

"With great streams of crusty blood streaking down the side of them?"

Draco started; he glanced closer at the doors and examined the wood. "That's dried paint, you fool. Look, whatever supposed family 'secrets' we have are none of _your_ business—just like whatever goes on in The Burrow isn't ours."

"My family doesn't _have_ secrets."

"Oh, no?"

"No. Everyone can know our business—everyone _does_ know our business, it would appear."

"Just…let's go, Weasley, we don't have time for this!"

What's wrong…afraid I'm going to spoil the secret of your sacrificial chamber?"

"DO YOU WANT TO GET HOME OR NOT?"

Ron paused, nostrils flaring.

"If my mother finds you, I can assure you, you WILL find out what's in that room…the hard way. Now come on."

Ron crossed his arms. "Where are we going?"

"Follow me, and you'll find out."

Draco led him back towards the small corridor; Ron followed him, glancing at the dark walls that lined the way. The hall was strange—abnormally crooked. Tinted oil portraits sneered at him as he passed by; a few slid into the shadows of their dark canvases as though unable to be within his presence.

"The Hall of Shadows," Draco muttered suddenly.

"What?"

"You wanted to know about it, right? The great secrets to Malfoy Manor? The corridor--it'scalled The Hall of Shadows."

Ron peered down the crookedly winding path. "Why?"

"Because it's a hall and has a lot of shadows."

Ron stopped for a moment, and did something he never thought he'd do in the presence of a Malfoy.

He laughed.

"Honestly…you named it that because it's a shadowy hall?"

"_I _didn't. One of my ancestors did." He couldn't see his face, but he almost felt like Malfoy might be…_smiling._

"Seriously, Malfoy," he said after a moment. "How _are_ you going to get me out?"

Malfoy nodded at a small door in one of corner of the hall. "A stair case to the roof."

"The roof?"

"The Manor has a few turrets at the top. I've arranged for a friend of mine to take you to Diagon Alley. You can use of the Floo there."

"A friend of yours?" Ron raised an eyebrow.

"Don't worry, Weasley, she won't bite."

"She?"

"Surprisingly enough, I actually do have friends who might not want to kill you."

They reached the doorway, a small niche in the wall that opened to a dark, twisted wooden staircase. Ron made his way up carefully, following Malfoy through the uneven path. The stair extended upwards and upwards; even with his Quidditch training his legs began to cramp up.

Malfoy didn't bother to pause; Ron gritted his teeth and followed without complaint. _Can't let him see me as weaker than him—the Quidditch would be unbearable next year._

They reached a platform; Ron heard the wrenching of a metal lock. Malfoy's silhouette became shadowed in the dim light of the evening. Ron followed him out the stone turret.

"How did you manage to fool your mother?" asked Ron, leaning to glance down at the ground. They stood at least four stories up; the House had turrets at the top, similar to those of Hogwarts.

"She didn't ask many questions. She typically doesn't."

"Must be nice."

"Nice?"

"To have a Mum that don't bother with you except when you need her to."

"I suppose," said Malfoy, leaning on the edge of the wall. "Except…"

"Except what?"

"There is some merit to having a Mum who's so concerned she meddles in everything you do."

"I suppose."

"The last time my Mother meddled in anything, I was in primary and the result was my being transferred to another institution. At which point my Father kindly requested she not meddle again."

"Sounds…well…"

"Exactly."

"Well," said Ron, leaning back against the parapet, "get used to meddling, because Ginny is just like Mum. You'll never be free to do what you want again."

Malfoy glanced up, his eyes wide.

Ron cleared his throat. "Not that that means anything even close to acceptance, so don't get any ideas, Malfoy."

"Of course not," Malfoy sneered. "I wouldn't expect anything from you, Weasel."

"Right."

"Right."

"Draco," called a soft voice from above them. Both turned. A small girl with platinum hair set down atop the turret. "Is that you, Draco?"

"Henrietta." Malfoy nodded. The girl nodded in return. Ron had a feeling he was witnessing the warmest greeting the Malfoy family shared.

"This is my cousin, Henrietta," said Malfoy.

"_This…_is what you want me to take to Diagon Alley?" said the little girl, turning up her nose.

Ron frowned. "She's definitely related to you."

"Sorry, but this is an emergency."

The girl frowned. "Fine, but this pays back all favors, Draco. And I'm expecting that I won't hear from you about _anything_, is that clear?"

"Fine. And that means not a word about this from you _either_, Henrietta, do you understand? Not to your Mother. Or I tell her _everything."_

Henrietta's face twisted in a very impish sneer. "Fine. Have it your way, _Drakee_."

Malfoy ignored her. "Henrietta will fly you to Diagon Alley. She knows everything…thanks to a bit of overzealous snooping she's done—much of which could get her into trouble with her mother. She won't tell—will you_, Etty?_"

The little girl grimaced at him, but after a moment's thought lay her broom out sideways. Ron stared at it. She shoved it towards him ruefully. He clambered on, sitting himself towards the back, near the straws. She seated herself in front of him, edging as close to the front of the broom as possible.

He turned towards Malfoy. "Thanks…" he muttered inaudibly.

Malfoy shrugged, his face twisting into a indiscernible expression.

"Are we done here?" asked Henrietta shrilly.

"Let's go then," said Ron. The little girl turned.

"You stay quiet. I don't want to have to hear you speak until we land—and not even then."

"Definitely related to you," he said through gritted teeth.

Malfoy looked around for a moment, the reached into his cloak. "Can you…give this to…you know…"

Ron eyed him for a moment. Malfoy turned red, his mouth curling into a snarl. Henrietta scoffed.

Ron snatched the letter out of his hand refusing to look at him. "She'll get it."

Malfoy backed away as Henrietta pushed off the ground. Ron turned away, his face bent against the rising wind. For a moment, he thought he saw Malfoy nod.

Ron tucked the letter into his cloak.

In an instant, Draco, the rooftop, and the dim lights of the Manor were nothing but a blur.

* * *

Draco watched as Henrietta rose up, disappearing into the murky night sky. Ironic, that his only hope of reaching Ginny now lay in the hands of the one person he hated most. 

Well, hated second most.

Thought he hated second most.

But Weasley hadn't put up much of a fight. In fact, he'd been almost…_cordial. _Almost…thanked him.

Almost.

"Draco?"

Draco jumped; his mother emerged onto the walkway, her thin arms clasped around her. "I've been searching for hours. Archibald told me he thought he saw you come this way. What are you doing out here?"

"Thinking," he responded quickly. "I thought you were going to bed."

Narcissa raised an eyebrow. "I am afraid I cannot sleep. What are you thinking about?"

"Everything, I suppose…the trial tomorrow…"

"I told you, you don't have to worry. I have a strong case, and everyone will understand, particularly because we saved their children."

"I know…but…"

"The Malfoy name will remain intact, Draco. Our honor will not suffer."

Weasley was gone. Henrietta was a blur in the distance. They'd gotten away. He'd be at his home in a matter of hours, his Mother happy to see him.

"What about our family?"

"Our family?" Narcissa turned to him, puzzled. "What about our family?"

Draco lowered his head. "Has our family suffered?"

His Mother smiled at him. "Draco…you haven't been concerned about 'our family' since you were five. What's brought this about?"

He lowered his head, his hair swirling about his face.

"Never mind," he heard her say softly when he didn't respond. "I shouldn't have even had to ask that."

They stood in silence for a few moments.

"A part of me is glad you're concerned," she said a few moments later. "And a part of me _is_ concerned about why you are. Draco…" she placed a finger under his chin, turning his head towards her. "I would have hoped that by now you would realize that what you want won't work."

He stiffened.

"It isn't as though I resent what you…well, to be honest, I suppose I dislike the idea in general. But the problem isn't so much the family as what the family represents."

"Mother."

"Not that they love mudbloods…though that is, of course, everything we are against…but that they would have absolutely no place in the future of this world. Draco, there are great things in store for you—you have no idea just how great—and what you have now just won't do it any honor."

"How can I know that, if I don't know _what_ it is I'm destined for?"

"In your soul, Draco, you know. You also know that what I'm saying is the truth. It is your heart that tells you differently. In this case, however, your heart can't win."

"Why not?" he whispered.

"Because it would mean the end of us all," she said softly.

The air around them hung dead, and silent.

"I'm going inside," she said, after a few minutes. "We'll be leaving early in the morning, so make sure you get some rest."

"Yes Mother."

Draco heard the door close behind her.

His eyes were burning. Something wet was rolling down his face.

_The wind is making my eyes sting._

_Weasley must be halfway to Diagon Alley, by now._

The nauseous feeling had returned to the pit of his stomach. He wished, above all things, he'd never given him that letter.

* * *

"Where is he?" said Mrs. Weasley, tapping her fingers on the small end table. "He's taken far too long. I'm going to send Errol to Malfoy Manor _right now_." 

Harry glanced at Hermione, who stared back at him from her place near the fire with a panicked expression.

"Mrs. Weasley…I'm sure he's just taking longer than he expected. Perhaps an owl is being a bit rash…"

"No, no, I don't think so Harry dear. This is all just a bit too odd. He's stayed too long…"

"Maybe he and Malfoy really ended up having something to talk about," said Ginny hopefully.

Mrs. Weasley raised an eyebrow, "Ginny, I know you want them to get along, but there is just something about…well, I just don't think that is a possibility…"

"And you would be right," echoed a hollow voice.

Harry leapt from his armchair, yanking Hermione from her overstuffed cushion as a great burst of green flame exploded from the fireplace. A swirl of red and black slowly spun into Ron's tall, lanky form. He stumbled from the fireplace, coughing.

"RON!" Hermione screamed, rushing towards him and nearly knocking him over with a hug. "Where have you been? We've been so worried!"

Harry, waving the smoke away with his hand, was grinning. "Next time you decided to go visiting mate, give us a little advanced warning."

"Right," said Ron, separating himself from Hermione. "Sorry I worried you, Mum. It's not like I…"

Harry shook his head frantically, gesturing to the Floo.

"I…uh…had a lot of time to send notes as to when I'd be back. Malfoy, that twit, kept me busy the entire time."

"Doing what?"

"Helping him with his…Quidditch stuff," said Ron helplessly.

Mrs. Weasley smiled, winking conspiratorially at Harry and Hermione. "Right…well then, you must be hungry. Can I get you something to eat?"

Ron's mouth dropped open. "Uh…thanks, Mum."

Harry heaved a huge sigh of relief as Mrs. Weasley headed to the kitchen. "'S good thing you and I think alike on Quidditch."

Ron continued to stare at them; Hermione giggled. "We told her you went to Malfoy Manor to talk about Quidditch."

"And she _believed_ you?"

"Barely!" hissed Ginny. "What took you so long?"

"Narcissa Malfoy was back," said Ron, collapsing in an chair. "So none of the Floo were working at the Manor. And then we had to wait for Malfoy's crazy cousin to pick me up off the roof, and fly me to Diagon Alley—I'll never fly duo on a Hertford 2525 again, I'll tell you that—then I had to beg Madam Guidry to let me into the boots and bats store—and she dumped an entire _pot_ of Floo Powder on my head!"

"They didn't…do anything to you, did then?" asked Ginny tentatively.

"No-o-o…" Ron said slowly. "Save their bloody crazy owl. But being _any_ amount of time in Malfoy Manor is punishment enough."

Ginny crossed her arms.

"I'm sorry…I didn't mean that," sighed Ron. "It was just…being with Mal…never mind. Ginny, Tensy—Tebby—Ten…"

"Tenny?"

"Yes! Tenny says hello."

Ginny smiled.

"Oh," Ron said, his tone becoming wan. "And I promised Malfoy I'd give you this." He extended a letter in his hand.

Ginny grabbed it eagerly. "Wow! You two must really have reached a…"

Ron was glaring at her. "Reached a what?"

Harry and Hermione grinned.

"Nothing. Thanks, Ron."

"You're welcome…and don't ever, EVER ask me to do anything like that again."

"Fine…then don't go grabbing Portkeys you're not supposed to. G'night!" she chirped before he could respond, and darted up the stairs, leaving him to his friends.

She reached her room, lighting the candle quickly and tearing open the letter. It was sealed with the impression of her own Prefect pin—a certain sign it was from Draco.

"What do you have to say to me," she wondered softly. Draco's neat, concise writing spread across the page:

_Dear Ginny,_

_Hopefully when you get this, your brother will be back with your family. You don't have to worry, my Mother didn't see him, though he WAS being a prat the entire time. I'm sure you can believe that._

_I'm sorry about the way we left (before your brother grabbed the Portkey). I promise, it wasn't my intention to part the way we did. I just…with my mother's trial…and your family being the way they are…what else could I do?_

"You could have been civilized," Ginny muttered.

_Ginny…you know how I feel about you. Things end up so confused at times…but know that I care about you more than I can measure, and in the end, it is YOU who makes the difference._

_You are the only good I hold within me. Without you, my life has no light. I hope you will remember that, no matter what happens._

_Love,_

_Draco_

Tears clouded her eyes, making the words on the page fuzzy.

Life IS difficult for him. I should be more understanding. If I'm not, I won't just lose him—he'll lose his own soul.

She pulled the letter to her chest. _I'll work harder, Draco, I promise._

The door slammed downstairs; the familiar sounds of her father greeting his family. She pulled herself off her bed, stuffing the letter in her pocket.

She had to ask her father something rather important.

* * *

Travel to the Ministry took less time than he expected; they had arranged for a special Portkey, so the family wouldn't have to wait. 

Dawn had barely broken, but the Halls outside the trial chambers were filled with wizards bustling in and out. Barrister Murray was waiting outside one of the large rooms, his thick moustache trimmed neatly and turned up at the ends, making his raised nose seem even more pointed.

"Narcissa. Right on time. Hello, young Master Malfoy."

"Good Day, Barrister Murray. I understand that my Mother will be released from Azkaban today."

The Barrister raised his nose even more, but cleared his throat. "Yes, well, I believe she has a very strong case."

"I hope that you live up to your word. For your sake."

"Now, now, Draco. Let's not be melodramatic," said his Mother. She looked her finest, in beautiful, neat green robes. "After all, this was no ordinary attack—we must contend with what Albus Dumbledore must attest to—and there is no telling what the _Headmaster_ will say on my behalf."

"Or against it," mumbled Murray.

"Wait here, Draco. Murray and I have a few things to discuss," she moved with the Barrister down the hall. Draco watched them go, an unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He'd never imagined the possibility that his Mother might be sent back to Azkaban. She'd only been gone a few weeks, but it had seemed an eternity, even with his visit to The Burrow.

_She was just saving my life. That's all. Who's to say that wasn't justified?_

But someone had died.

_No…her sister died—or rather, was murdered. She killed her own sister._

What if his mother didn't return? He'd be alone, sent to school with the knowledge that both his parents were convicted of crimes against the Ministry. No one would understand, not even Ginny. That name of Malfoy would mean nothing.

_At least my Mother can be seen as a kind of hero. She tried to kill someone working against Dumbledore—she didn't try to take the life of that blasted Potter, like my Father!_

"Hello…_Draco."_

Draco turned, and nearly dropped his cloak. He hadn't expected that chilling voice, at least not at this particular moment. Certainly not when he'd been thinking of it.

But the figure of Lucius Malfoy, thin, with dark circles beneath his eyes—was standing over him, smiling.

He appeared anything but happy.

* * *

"F-Father." 

"Are you not glad to see me?"

"Of course, Father. But…Azkaban. How did you manage it?"

"The name of Malfoy still commands respect, whatever Dumbledore and his _Order_ might try and argue. As a matter of fact, the guards of Azkaban have been preoccupied as of late—with what occurred, of course, this past term. They found it in their hearts to release me long enough to allow me to stand beside my wife in her time of need."

"Of course," Draco murmured.

There was silence for a moment. Draco's father shifted his position, staring at Draco through lidded eyes.

"You appear taller."

"I am taller."

"And slightly more—_poised_."

"Poised?

"Of course, turning into a hero would make one so. Even Potter appears to be physically formidable these days."

"Please don't compare me to him."

"Why wouldn't I? Are not you and he allies now?"

Draco sighed; he'd hoped this explanation would come later, when he had time to prepare for it. "I had no choice, FatherThey tried to kill _all_ of us, not just the Gryffindors. Had we not done anything, we would be dead—including the Slytherins."

His father raised an eyebrow. "Very well. So you worked to save yourself—is that all?"

"Of course," Draco replied, his voice shaking.

"You seem nervous."

"What do you mean?"

"There is no need to conceal from me your secrets. I have ways of discovering… _everything_."

Draco's eyes widened. "Father, I…"

"For example, I know perfectly well that you did a bit more than just defend yourself. I understand you managed to conjured a Patronus. How did you handle such a powerful spell?"

Draco paused, his mind reeling. "A Patronus?"

"Quite a powerful Patronus, so my sources inform me."

"You…you don't think I am capable of the Patronus charm?" He felt the sweat beading on his forehead. _Is he toying with me?_

"You are capable of many things, Draco. But happy thoughts are not your forte—particularly when you allow a mudblood girl to supercede you in half of the lessons you _should_ know. None of…_our__kind_…has ever managed the Patronus easily."

"I had no choice. The other Slytherins were in danger. Pansy was in danger," he added quickly.

"Pansy…of the Parkinson family?"

"Yes, Father," Draco shrugged, trying to appear concerned. "Pansy was my date to the Yule Ball last year, and the other Slytherin chosen to be a prefect. She is quite a good friend of mine."

His father's eyes flashed, but the doubtful look etched on his face faded slightly. "Well then…but was forcing your Mother into it absolutely necessary?"

"I didn't force her into anything. I wasn't even allowed to speak with her—every form of communication was shut off. It was she, when she discovered what was happening, who made the decision to…to…"

"To kill my sister." Mrs. Malfoy said firmly, coming up behind them. "Hello, Lucius."

"Narcissa." Lucius leaned over, placing a kiss upon her thin cheek. "You look…well."

"As well as can be expected. I am sorry I did not see you while I was visiting."

"As am I. But we must do what we must."

"Yes, we must."

An uneasy silence settled around them. Draco surveyed his parents. Both looked worn and weary, especially his father.

_My family…_

Shadows of the conversation last night arose in his mind…

_I didn't think you cared about such things…_

Could he?

This was _his_ family.

_No…my family disappeared a long time ago. This isn't my family. This is my name…_

Was that all they were?

Only a few months ago, they had held a handsome place in wizarding society, admired and respected wherever they went. Now, they were chastised, imprisoned, spoken ill of—and, by many, completely disrespected. No matter where he went, whispers and stares followed.

_Draco closed his eyes. _My name means nothing, now…

_You are not like your father…not yet…_

Ginny's voice filtered through the tumble of vindictive thoughts rolling through his mind. His parents were standing next to him, waiting. The holders of the Malfoy name. Both had committed crimes against the Ministry. One was a traitor, the other, a murderer. Both were planning to kill more people, if they had their way.

Could he really carry the name of Malfoy now, without becoming embroiled in his parents' cause? Did he believe in them because of who they were—or because they were his family?

_How can I not?_

He believed in them. Not too long ago, he had believed utterly and completely that what they sought was right. But the person he loved more than anyone else in the world stood completely against what they held to be the ultimate truth of the wizarding world. And yet, here, between his parents, he felt safe, and strong…and that all they held true should be valued. But he was missing her, and her ideals, at the same time.

She was what a family _should _be. But this was who he _was._

"It's impossible…" he murmured.

"What's impossible?" asked Lucius suddenly.

Draco glanced up, eyes widening. "The…situation we're in. We're so far apart…"

"We will always be together, Draco," said his mother, brushing his hair softly with her hand, "your family is everything, remember? We will not let you go, I promise."

_Your family is everything…_

"Unless you try to kill another family member," Lucius returned rather snidely. "then she might take issue with you."

"That is not meant to be a joke, Lucius," replied Narcissa frigidly. "That was the choice I had before me, and it was a difficult one. But Bellatrix had lost her mind. She gave no credence to anyone—blood or family. She would have murdered Draco had I not intervened. She would have killed our only son."

"Of course," Lucius remarked, his sneer fading. "You did what you had to, Narcissa."

"And I would do it again, to whomever threatened my son—certain people would do well to remember that."

"Certain people."

Draco closed his eyes, a lump in his throat. _My family…_

Narcissa placed a light hand on Draco's shoulder.

"Mrs. Malfoy," called a voice from the hall. The doors to the Wizengamot had finally swung open. A redhead—a Weasley? Draco recognized.

_Ah yes…Percy—that twit of a Head Boy we had during my third year. _

Ginny never spoke much of him. Something to do with a falling out.

_Imagine that—a traitorous Weasley—so even Ginny's family's not perfect.._

"Mrs. Malfoy, we are about to begin," Weasley called out, adjusting the pince-nez on his face.

"Thank you," Narcissa turned to them. "This won't take long, I guarantee. I expect to find you both here when the doors are opened."

"Of course, Mother,"

"We will be waiting, Narcissa."

She smiled at them both, and followed Percy into the large chamber which the Wizengamot used during trials.

Draco moved away from the doors, towards the corner to lean against a pillar. Lucius followed him, staying in the shadow of the column. An uncomfortable silence settled between them.

"When do you return to Azkaban?" Draco asked as casually as he could.

"My, my, we are quick to get rid of me, aren't we?" said Lucius coldly.

"Of course not," Draco snapped. "I just wondered how much time you would get to spend with Mother."

"That is of no concern to you, Draco. Enjoy my being here while you can, and do not worry about Azkaban. I will not be there much longer anyway."

"Have they figured out how to free you?" Draco asked quietly. "I thought Dumbledore had…"

"I will be getting out…_one _way or another."

Draco turned, eyeing him suspiciously. "Are you planning to escape from underneath Dumbledore's nose?"

Lucius narrowed his eyes. "Why are you questioning me? This sort of behavior is unusual for you, Draco. Do _not_ meddle in affairs that are not of your concern."

"I thought all affairs regarding the Death Eaters were of my concern."

Lucius snatched Draco suddenly by his robes, slamming him roughly against the column. Some of the wizards around them ceased their conversations. Lucius moved them back behind the pillar. "You DO NOT mention that name here or anywhere else in public, do you understand!" he hissed quietly.

Draco raised his chin, his eyes widening slightly, and nodded.

His Father drew closer to him, sliding a thin hand upwards, around Draco's throat. "Your behavior as of late has been bordering on rebellion, so I have heard. The son I knew was proud of his family name—and his father. Even if you did not always fulfill your position or your potential, I saw a boy growing into a man I would be pleased to call my son. But I have heard things, Draco. I have heard things that have made me very…_troubled_.

"You are important for a number of reasons; reasons you will discover in the very near future. But you are not _so_ important you cannot be replaced. I will not have my son shaming everything I have worked to uphold because he is weak."

Lucius moved closer to Draco, until they were inches apart, his fingers still wrapped uncomfortably around Draco's neck.

"Do not betray me," he hissed softly.

"Yes, Father," Draco managed to choke out.

Lucius released him, settling back into the shadow of the column. "I dislike speaking to you in such a manner, Draco. But you must learn to be proud of who you are and what you were born into. You are too indecisive—too concerned about what the majority thinks as of late. Too wrapped up in your own thoughts, your own feelings. Feelings do not matter. Blood _does. _Those of us who forget the truth are no longer worth the blood that courses through our veins."

"Yes, Father," he whispered, massaging his throat and moving to the far side of the column.

"We become worthless—nothing. Just like the Weasleys," Lucius said softly, his eyes burning.

Draco swallowed slowly. _So he DOES know…or is he testing me!_

"Of course, Father."

I have to convince him, somehow…or she'll be killed… 

"DRACO!"

Draco's eyes widened, and he turned, slowly, to gaze down the hall, his heart pounding.

_It can't be…Oh, please…not now! _

Ginny was racing towards him. With her father employed at the Ministry, he should have expected she would show up, but after their goodbye yesterday, he'd though he was the last person she'd want to see…

THAT BLASTED LETTER! 

How he wished he'd never sent it!

_Please, Ginny, no, NOT NOW!_

His father turned, slowly moving out of the shadows towards the young woman barreling towards them.

Draco closed his eyes as his father stared incredulously at Ginny, turning to greet the one person Draco had hoped he would never have to meet.

* * *

_Hmmm...Lucius meets Ginny? Something tells me its not as nice as Molly meets Draco...thanks to a great chunk of editing I had to do, chapter 3 is nearly done. And, perhaps we'll find out a bit more about what lies in store for Draco..._


	3. Hidden Darkness, Hidden Trust

Ginny skidded to a halt, her heart pounding at the sight of Lucius Malfoy peering around the column which partly concealed his son.

How did he get here? 

Draco turned to her, a look of terror on his face as he watched her draw near. Ginny stared at him for a moment, then at Mr. Malfoy, who was watching with what seemed to be a curious interest.

There was only one way to resolve this.

"MALFOY!" she screeched, stomping towards him, and raising a hand, slapped him with as much force as she could muster. Draco's head spun to the side, his silver hair flying across his face as he lost his balance, stumbling into the column and sliding to the floor.

"_THAT'S FOR WHAT YOU DID TO MY BROTHER!"_

She glared at Lucius as hatefully as she could. Draco was staring up at her from his position on the floor, his gray eyes wide, holding a hand to his face. She'd hit him so heart, her hand had left a wide red mark across his pale cheek.

Her lip twitched. "You just try and cross my family again, Malfoy—you just try! I swear I'll make you SORRY!" He looked so lost and desperately hurt. "I swear! You can join _both_ your parents in Azkaban, and rot there for all I care!"

Draco's jaw dropped. Lucius Malfoy stared at her with such an expression it made her tremble. But she raised her chin defiantly.

"Get lost, _Weaselette._" Draco hissed, pulling slowly to his feet. "This is the last place you want to be at this _particular_ moment."

"I don't want to be _anywhere_ with you at any particular moment, Draco Malfoy! I forgot your Mother's trial was today. Had I known, I would NEVER have come here. But I'll take my chances to make sure _you_ understand—we're not going to be pushed around no matter how great a hero you think you are!"

"I said get lost." Draco's eyes were blazing, and he reached inside his robes for his wand. "_Right now."_

"What, are you going to hex me right here in the middle of the Ministry of Magic, ten feet from the Wizengamot? That's absolutely brilliant—no wonder you're a Slytherin Prefect."

"They've given students breaks before. I think this is one situation they just might understand."

"Right. I doubt they'd be as kind to you as they were to Harry."

"That stupid little scarhead?" he scoffed coldly. "He'll always get the benefit of the doubt, with Dumbledore on his side. But Dumbledore owes me too—and Slytherin. The Malfoy name still counts for something."

"Oh, _really_."

"Yes…unlike _some_ purebloods who aren't worth the House they live in. And considering the House—or rather the shack, really, well…lets just say its not _much_."

Ginny flushed bright red and whipped out her own wand. "Say that again, you stupid prat."

"Get lost, Weaselbeak. Before you end up looking more like your name than you already do."

"I'd like to see you try that. I'll give another go with my Bat Bogey Hex…I've perfected it…just for you. Do you really want to chance that?" Ginny sneered.

"I think I'll run the risk," he returned.

"Now let's not get carried away," said Lucius Malfoy coldly, stepping in front of Draco. "Miss _Weasley…_I suggest you depart from here as quickly as you can. We wouldn't want any unfortunate _accidents _to happen. After all, not all of us here are bound by the restrictions on underage wizardry."

She set her jaw.

"Ginny!" Neville Longbottom, a sixth year Gryffindor, was moving slowly up the hall, watching the scene with wide eyes. "Are you alright?"

Her wand began to tremble. "I…I'm fine."

Neville raised his chubby chin towards Lucius, placing a hand on Ginny's wand arm and slowly lowering it. "I think your father is looking for you."

"Get lost, Longbottom," Draco said suddenly, his voice like ice.

Neville glared. His experiences at the end of last term had stiffened his resolve, and though he might not confront Draco, he would certainly hold his ground. "Come on, Ginny. I'll take you up to your father's offices."

"Th-thank you, Neville," she said, suddenly shaky. She placed her wand back in her robes, casting one final glare towards Draco and his father. "Its nice to be in company you can trust."

He nodded, and placed an arm around her shoulders. "Come on."

Draco stared after them, a dark expression on his face. His wand was trembling as he watched them go, his eyes narrowed dangerously into slits. Ginny's breath caught. Behind him, Lucius Malfoy was staring at her exactly the same way.

Identical.

---------------------

Draco watched as Neville escorted Ginny down the hall, his face still stinging from where she'd slapped him.

He was so angry, he wand was trembling uncontrollably.

He'd never been full of rage in all his life.

_How could she do this to me!_

He stared after them, until they disappeared around the corner.

All the way down the hall with his arm about her shoulders!

_If I see that Longbottom again I swear I'm going to crush him like a bug!_

"Lower your wand, Draco. Showing your aggression will not help matters," said his Father suddenly. Draco jumped; he'd forgotten Lucius Malfoy was there.

There was a slightly pleased grin on his father's face. "Do not worry. The Weasley family will get theirs with time."

"What?" Draco tried to collect his thoughts.

"_Put away your wand._"

He shoved his wand into his robes, the picture of Neville and Ginny still burned into his mind. He raised a hand to his throbbing cheek. "I'll make them pay," he muttered.

"Yes. But later. Right now, the honor of the Malfoy family—your Mother—is our most important concern. Maintain your calm, Draco, and don't let them see you get angry."

"Yes, Father."

His father raised a calming hand, lying it softly upon his shoulder. Different from what he'd done only moments before. "Don't _ever_ let them see your true feelings. DO NOT show them your heart."

Draco stared at his father for a moment. "No. Of course not," he repeated robotically.

A door swung open down the hall. The Wizengamot was departing, one after another. Within moments, his Mother emerged, looking triumphant.

"Resolved," she said finally, as she approached them. "There was very little discussion, although, of course, some of the more 'muggle-friendly' were a bit miffed, but they understood that little could be done on my part. The death of Bellatrix was in defense of the children of Hogwarts."

"Very good, Narcissa," said Lucius, his hand dropping from Draco's shoulder. "Even if it was your sister."

"She tried to kill our children, Lucius," said Narcissa with an empty expression.

"It may have appeared that way to some. To others she was merely being loyal—and rather brave."

"She was a murderer."

Lucius grinned coldly.

"I need not remind you," she huffed, slightly ruffled, "that I was not the only one who was angered by her actions. And I do not refer simply to Albus Dumbledore. I have heard that those in higher…_standing_ than you would have held her accountable in much the same manner I did."

"Of course. Now that the plan has failed. Before…"

"She tried to murder my son, Lucius," Narcissa spat, staring at him coldly. She placed a thin hand Draco's shoulder, squeezing tightly. "I have been over this three times today, twice with my own husband. This discussion ends _now._"

Lucius returned her gaze, before turning to Draco. "I suppose…"

"Narcissa. Congratulations on this small victory, I see that your family was able to offer their support." Albus Dumbledore emerged amidst the crowd of wizards.

Narcissa turned to him. "Hello, Albus. Thank you."

He smiled at her, though his eyes lacked their customary sparkle. "Lucius, I believe there is someone looking for you."

Two wizards Draco recognized as working for the Ministry's Defense Department were pushing through the crowd.

From Azkaban… 

Lucius's face darkened. "Thank you, Albus. You are always looking after us."

"Of course," Dumbledore replied pleasantly. "Everyone must be taken care of."

"Especially some," returned Draco's father. "Though it appears even at Hogwarts, Mr. Potter remains a danger to all, including my son."

"A person's greatest danger is often to themselves," said Dumbledore. His blue eyes had suddenly grown dark, and cold. "You would do well to remember that, Lucius. As it were, Mr. Potter has returned to the…comfort…of a safe haven. And next year's school term won't be so simple to breach. Draco, so long as he does nothing to endanger himself, will be quite safe."

"I see."

"Yes," Dumbledore continued, staring past Lucius, "all of our choices will be profoundly important in the coming weeks. Our choices are what define us, you know, and are what will set us free—or confine us to a wretched end."

Lucius shifted, looking slightly uncomfortable. Narcissa's grip tightened on Draco's shoulder.

"Let us hope," said the Headmaster, "that the choices we make will not endanger those we love."

"I'm afraid we are a trifle late for that bit of advice," Lucius said, glancing at Narcissa.

She pursed her lips. "Thank you, Albus."

"Of course. And remember," he bent down slightly, staring at Draco for a moment, "that not everything results in death—there are some endings far worse. Remember that. Now then," he straightened, clasping his hands and staring at them pleasantly, "I understand the Ministry offers quite a banquet down in the Dining Hall—the macaroons are magnificent. Fourth floor, I believe. Goodbye."

Draco swallowed, watching as he receded in to the distance. "What in the bloody hell was he talking about?"

"Draco, language," said his mother. "Don't worry on Dumbledore. He's quite a powerful wizard, but it seems he's becoming an old fool as well. He's nearly as loony as his brother."

One of the Ministry guards nodded at them, clearing his throat. Draco glared at them.

Narcissa turned to her husband. "I suppose we had better say our goodbyes…those guards are not going to let us alone. Lucius?"

Draco's father was staring from Dumbledore's form to Draco slowly, lost in thought.

"Father?"

Lucius narrowed his eyes, then turned towards Draco. "Take care, my son. Remember what I just told you. And do not take to heart what Dumbledore says. He supports Potter, and _you_ have no reason to trust him."

"Yes, Father."

"And let's keep ourselves focused, shall we? No more of these…_disturbing_ reports I've been receiving from the outside. You are up for Head Boy next year, let us not get wrapped up in theatrics and sideshows?"

"Yes, Father."

"Narcissa? Keep a watch on our boy," he said with a cold stare.

"Of course, Lucius," she replied. "Take care."

"I shall see you both very soon, I promise," he leaned in, drawing Narcissa into a surprisingly soft embrace. For a moment, Draco saw his mother's stiffness fade, and she squeezed him back. When she drew away, she was smiling—a small smile, but a genuine one.

A wicked one.

"I believe you," she said softly. He smiled back, his eyes remaining dark, and cold.

He walked away from them, head held high, his cloak in hand. The Two wizard guards had to struggle to keep up. Narcissa and Draco watched him go, his mother's face growing slightly wistful. Draco was uncertain if he could maintain such pride in the face of such blatant disrespect. He'd certainly not shown it with his own enemies.

_He looks so proud, even in the face of adversity. Nothing will tarnish him._

Draco wanted to be like him.

"Come along, Draco. We have a great deal to catch up on," his mother said, steering him towards the Entrance Hall. The wistful look had disappeared, and she was once more herself, as proper and resolved as ever. "I would like, first of all, to know what you were up to while I was away."

Draco gulped. He hadn't wanted to discuss _that_ either.

----------------------------------

"I can't BELIEVE I did that!" Ginny cried, trying to control her sobs. "I can't believe I actually hit him!"

"Ginny, calm down!" Neville said, standing awkwardly before her. He'd found an empty office down the Hall, belonging to someone who fooled with enchanted shoes, and had steered her into it, trying to soothe her.

She never thought she'd get this upset. Somehow, she knew it had to do with Lucius Malfoy standing behind his son. _He almost found out about it…I almost got Draco into such a bind…_

"Ginny…" Neville sighed, kneeling before her, and drew a tissue from the nearby desk. "This is so…"

"Odd?" Ginny sniffled.

Neville stared at her for a moment, looking a bit tentative. "Er…to say the least, I'm sure. I was going to say dangerous."

"It's that too!" she cried, a fresh round of tears pouring down her face. "I hate it!"

"Then…if you don't mind my asking…why do you bother?"

"I don't know!" she clenched her fist around the tissue angrily. "He was such a prat yesterday—he didn't want to listen to a word I had to say. He left in such a stupid fit—he's such a bloody idiot!"

Behind them, a pair of red shoes began to dance. Neville shrugged, looking uncomfortable.

"But he can be kind too—I know it's hard to believe, but he can actually care about something…he cares so much about his family and his name. I know it sounds quite stupid, but he does have loyalty to something—I just don't know what!"

The red shoes made it halfway up the wall they were hanging from, and finally gave up, dropping down with a _clump._

"Maybe _I'm_ the fool," she sighed. "Maybe I'm the one hoping for a change that just won't happen."

"Well…I'm no expert on…basically anything," Neville said softly. "But I can say this—I've seen Draco Malfoy at his absolute worst, and then worse than that. I would never believe that he would be capable of producing a Patronus, even if he is skilled in magic. But I saw his Patronus last term, and I know that was because of you. Whatever you did, it made him capable of a supreme kind of goodness—I find that hard to believe, but the proof lay in the that Dragon, and I can't doubt that.

"Whatever you're doing, Ginny, just keep trying. I'm certain that he shall come around."

Ginny glanced up at him. He was smiling genuinely.

She'd never felt more compelled to hug someone in her life. And she would have, had she not been afraid she'd soak completely through his sweater.

"Thank you, Neville. Thank you so much."

-----------------------------------

Draco had left by the time she and Neville returned to the wide hall where the Wizengamot had been held.

The image of him tilting backwards, his silver hair flying out as her hand made contact, flashed through his mind.

She wrapped her arms around herself. If Draco was any kind of decent person, he'd understand why she'd done what she'd done.

The problem was, she didn't know if he was a decent person or not.

_Why is there so much doubt? Why can't I just trust him?_

"Ginny?"

Her father was walking up the wide hallway, a few papers under his arm. "All you alright?"

She grinned. "Yes, of course, Dad."

"Well…let's go. Your Mother will be expecting us home soon."

Ginny nodded, moving alongside him. They'd have to return to his office in order to Floo home. "What are you working on?"

"Oh, a bit of everything here and there. Those muggles continue to find interest in odd or extraordinary things. The last one bought an enchanted bird cage that always let her parrot out when she wasn't home. And this fellow," he flipped over one of the files, showing her a dark-eyed man with a large moustache, "has an infestation of nargles so bad they've moved up from filching socks and towels and are now assaulting his dress shirts. If he'd just clean out the lint filter every once in a while, he'd never have attracted them in the first place."

"Dad, can I ask you something?" she said abruptly.

"Of course, Ginny, what's wrong?"

"When you and Mum were first dating…did you ever…not trust her with anything?"

Her father turned bright red. "Uh…d-dating? This seems more like a question for your M-mum."

"But I'd like to know how _you_ felt. Did you ever not trust her?"

"Well," her father shifted his papers nervously. "I don't suppose so. There were times I was angry with her, because she would do things I didn't like or didn't feel like doing. But I never felt as though I couldn't trust her." Her father thought for a moment, tapping his chin. "Except, perhaps, around teatime. She had a fondness for potions, particularly love potions, that was quite disturbing…"

"But…you always knew you could trust her to make the right choices—to think like you do."

"Ginny," her father pulled her aside near a large, circular window. "No one person thinks like another. Everyone is individual, so naturally people will always think differently.

"What is important is that you both agree on the most important things. How you feel about one another. Whether you would trust that other person to be there for you. All of the rest can work itself out, for the most part."

"For the most part?"

"There are things…things that might be difficult, depending on how important they are to you. Choosing sides with regards to Harry, for example."

Ginny glanced down at the marble tile. "If we don't agree on something like that, is a relationship worth it?"

"I can't answer that, Ginny. Only you truly know the answer. How important are Harry, Hermione, Professor Dumbledore—the Order itself—how important are they to you? How important is Ron? Is he more important than your heart?"

"Honestly, Dad? Honestly, I'm not sure. I just don't know."

"Then perhaps that's something you need to figure out," said Mr. Weasley, smiling softly at her. "Come along. If we don't return soon, your Mum really will be putting worse than love potions in my tea."

---------------------------

"This feels wonderful."

Narcissa spread her legs on one of the parlor sofas. The Manor had been polished until it shone; the House Elves had truly outdone themselves. There was not a speck of dust to be seen for miles.

Draco perched on the edge of an armchair, tossing his long cloak aside. "I'm glad everything went well today, Mother."

"Almost everything, anyway," she said, pulling herself up and walking over to him. She placed on elegantly manicured hand on his chin, and slowly tilted his head, sweeping away his hair to survey the side of his cheek. "What happened? Your father didn't strike you, did he?"

He started, pulling from the chair and out of her grasp, and checked his reflection in one of the ornate mirrors lining the wall.

A large purple welt extended across his cheek, with five smaller marks flaring out from the center.

A handprint.

He drew his fingers across his face. Ginny had left the mark when she slapped him. She'd hit him so hard, it had left a bruise.

"Draco?"

He frowned. "No, Mother. Father didn't strike me. You know he's never…"

"Then who hit you?"

He sighed. "Ginny."

"WHAT?"

"She saw me at the Ministry…I think she was going to say something, and she didn't realize Father was there. So she had to cover."

His Mother's lips were pursed. "By striking you?"

He turned away from the mirror, sighing. "It worked. Father believes she despises me. _I _almost wonder if she despises me."

Narcissa returned to her perch on the sofa. "If you ask me, Draco, this little affair of yours is much more trouble than its worth. Any woman less sensible than Ginny, and the uproar that would have been raised by your father—and the other Death Eaters—would have made Bella's attack on the school look like child's play."

"Mother, don't be dramatic."

"I am not," she said sharply. "Ginny was smart in protecting you. She understands, apparently, the difficult position you are in. It is you, I believe, who does not."

"I understand completely. Better than anyone could possibly guess."

She smiled at him, the grin not touching her eyes. "I know you better than anyone could ever, or will ever, know you. You love Ginny—or you think you do—but in your heart of hearts, Draco, you still wish to be a Malfoy. You do not wish to give up who you are."

He cast his eyes down, staring at the plush carpet. "Mother…"

"The trait is not a fault, Draco. It is the one thing that will save you, in the end."

He looked up sharply. "What do you mean by that?"

"The Second War is coming, son. Even Potter knows that. Ginny most certainly knows that. Only you try to hide the fact, from yourself most especially. There will be casualties on both sides, but everyone knows that no 17-year-old wizard, no matter how many spells Albus Dumbledore tries to teach him, will ever be able to conquer the Dark Lord. The side you choose to be on will determine your fate. And if you are known to be on the side that is headed for its doom, your fate will be sealed with a curse.

She raised an eyebrow. "Or perhaps a kiss."

His lips curled into a sneer. "You certainly have picked up quite a few of Father's traits in his absence, Mother. Did your time in Azkaban make you bolder? Or was it finally taking the life of someone with your own hand?"

She rose from her seat faster than lighting. "You will not speak to me like that again, Draco. Or you will find a matching bruise on your other cheek."

He bent down, pulling his cloak off the floor with a neat sweep of his long arm. "Shall I turn that other cheek, then, and let you take it as you will? Seems to be something I'm quite good at, lately."

Without a second glance towards her, he marched towards the main staircase.

------------------------------------

"_You did what?"_

Ginny sniffled, rubbing her eyes. "I slapped him. I slapped him so hard I knocked him down." She was seated at the kitchen table in the Burrow. Outside the sun was just setting; she and her father had only just arrived a few moments before, covered in ash and Floo powder. Her father had gone straight off to find her mother, while Ginny had taken a seat at the table, greeted by Ron, Harry and Hermione, who were finishing up their supper.

She'd told them everything that had happened in no small detail. Now, Harry was staring at her with his mouth slightly open; beside him, Ron was laughing so hard he'd nearly fallen out of his seat.

Hermione struck him on the shoulder. "Really Ron. I know that maturity comes difficult for you these days, but you could at least try."

He tried glaring at her, but couldn't keep a straight face. Hermione crossed her arms. "One of these days, he's going to be a part of your family, and you're going to regret moments like this."

That stopped his fit, his face going as red as his hair. "The only thing I'll ever regret, _Hermione_, is that I wasn't there to see my sister give him his due."

"I didn't do it on purpose, Ron!" Ginny shrieked. "I shouldn't have hit him like that!" Hot tears filled her eyes once more.

Harry patted her hand softly. " 'S alright, Ginny. You were right to do what you did, for yours and for Malfoy's sake. If anyone from within the Death Eaters finds out about the two of you, neither one of you will be safe."

"So you think it was okay?" she asked softly.

He smiled at her, the corners of his green eyes crinkling softly. "I think it was fine."

Hermione was smiling at the two of them; the tips of Harry's ears turned red. Ron crossed his arms, a sort of half _harrumph_ echoed from his lips.

"What are you going to do now?" Hermione asked.

"I dunno." Ginny sat back, pulling her abundant red hair into a knot behind her head. "I guess I should write him a letter. But I'm so tired of letters. They never tell you anything about what you really want to know."

"Ginny, is that you? Your father said you'd returned and you might want to…" Mrs. Weasley came into the kitchen, her face softening at the site of Ginny's tired, red eyes. "What happened, dear?"

"Mum…" Ginny stood as her Mother came over, and engulfed her in a wooly hug.

"I…uh…just remembered that Ron and I were going to practice Quidditch for a little while," said Harry, rising abruptly from the table. "Y' know, some of those things Malfoy taught you yesterday."

Ron looked up at him, puzzled. "Quidditch things…now? But it's half past eight. It's bloody dark outside."

"Ron, language," said Mrs. Weasley.

"Come _on_, Ron," said Harry hurriedly, raising his eyebrows. "You know…that, uh, special move?"

Ron glanced at his mother and Ginny. "I don't remember a special move."

"_I do,_" said Hermione, pulling at his jumper. "It had something to do with evasive maneuvers, right Harry? I'll light the pitch for you. After all, we don't want you forgetting something important."

Ron set his feet. "We can always practice tomor…"

"I want to practice now," said Harry, interrupting him. He and Hermione half-pulled, half-dragged her brother out through the door. Mrs. Weasley smiled after them fondly. Then she cupped Ginny's face in her hands and kissed her forehead.

"I'll put on a spot of tea. Why don't you go and sit in the sitting room and get comfortable?"

Ginny nodded, making towards the large, fluffy comfort of their old couch. A few moments later, she was joined by her Mum, two cups of tea and a plate of biscuits.

Mrs. Weasley seated herself in a nearby chair. "Your father told me a little bit about what happened today, but he seemed puzzled—what happened that made you so upset?"

She recounted her encounter with Draco as Mrs. Weasley listened intently, frowning slightly at the conversation between Ginny and Lucius Malfoy. When Ginny finished, her Mum set down her tea, sighing.

"This all sounds so terribly difficult."

"That's exactly what it is. And that's why I asked Dad if he ever had a reason to distrust you. Mum—the look on his face—Draco's—he looked exactly like his father. What if that is what he is going to become?" she wrapped her arms about herself, suddenly feeling cold. "Will I never be able to trust him?"

Her Mum rose, moving over to squeeze on the couch beside her. "Ginny…I can't answer that. Only you can truly know whether, in your heart, he is trustworthy."

"But…did you ever moments where you distrusted Dad?"

Mrs. Weasley shook her head softly. "No, dear. I completely trusted your father from the moment I met him."

Ginny's face fell.

"But—" said Mrs. Weasley quickly, "Your father is very different from Draco."

"How?"

Mrs. Weasley chuckled for a moment. "Well, for one, he was neither as sophisticated or—dare I say this—clever? Perhaps that isn't the best way to put it. Rather, let's just say that while Draco is a deep, rather complicated soul, your father—for as smart as he is—wasn't. I knew him implicitly from the first time we were introduced. His joy, his pain—it was always written across his face. Your father is very intelligent, but he was never a troubled man—that's one of the things I love most about him. With Arthur, I never had to guess. I always knew—and still know—what he was thinking, straight off. Ron's a bit like him, in that."

Ginny frowned. "That seems best to me. You and Dad are so happy. You love each other so much. I don't think Draco and I would ever be that way." She glanced at her hands for a moment, toying with the fingers. "Perhaps we just aren't meant to be."

"That's not necessarily true," her mother replied. "Sometimes, the most complicated souls are the ones meant to have the love no other couple can match. Theirs is the deepest and truest love."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, not everyone is meant to love immediately. Sometimes people have to work at it. In cases like mine and your father, we were a match from the start. There was nothing exciting about our lives, and that was the way we preferred it. But there were times I envied people who had to fight for their romance—there was something so intrinsically deep, a bond so strong—something I knew I could never have. They'd had to overcome obstacles, to love so greatly. They'd truly had to fight.

"Not that I would change anything about the relationship I have with your father," said her Mum with a grin. "I wouldn't change that for the world. I love him as deeply as anyone else. But there are some romances you know of—who the world knows of—and there are some you don't. Mine and Arthur's—only our family knows how strong our love is. Most everyone else takes it for granted."

"That's not a bad thing, Mum."

"No, it's not. But at the same time, as I said before—there IS merit to working towards something. The bond you establish can't be broken—and it will be admired, and perhaps more importantly, set as an example—for everyone."

"Sounds nice," Ginny sighed. "Sounds like something from a play, or a storybook—it sounds like fiction. The trouble is, I can't think of anyone _really_ who is like Draco in personality—who will have to "fight" for their love. I can't think of anyone who _had_ to fight for their love, and ended up having an unbreakable relationship because of it. Aren't all those Romeos and Juliets just made up?"

"Are they? I'm not so sure," said Mrs. Weasley, smiling. "You might not be able to think of one—but I can."

"Who?"

Her mother tugged at a strand of her hair. "I'll give you a hint. Their son is just outside your door, probably giving your brother a lashing in the air."

Ginny's eyes widened. "The Potters? Harry's parents?"

A grin spread across Mrs. Weasley's face. "When I knew them, they were incredibly in love. But according to everything I'd heard before, Lily Evans _despised_ James Potter all through their time in school. In fact, it wasn't until their seventh year that she even considered him at all.

"But look at who they became—James and Lily Potter were one of the most admired and respected couples in our world—and their love helped destroy the most powerful dark wizard we've ever seen. And they gave us Harry."

Ginny thought for a moment. "I never considered Harry's parents had to work at their relationship. It's very odd they disliked one another! But…even if they did hate each other—even if Lily disliked him because he was a prat, or a bully, or a snob—Mum, James Potter wasn't from a dark wizarding family. Lily didn't have to worry about his becoming a Death Eater, or betraying her to follow someone like You-Know-Who."

"Of course not, though even pureblood families can have odd branches—look at the Blacks..." she stopped suddenly.

"Mum?"

Mrs. Weasley sighed. "Sorry, dear. But you are right—in caring for Draco, you are unique, for the most part."

"For the most part?"

"Well, no one I know of has fallen in love with a Death Eater. But everyone has a different relationship woe, even if the person they love is "good", as you would say. Consider the person who will fall in love with Harry."

Ginny's eyebrows furrowed. "What? Harry would be a great person to fall in love with—I mean, I think so, not that I would ever think now…but—I think he'd be one of the best people to fall in love with…I think."

Mrs. Weasley smoothed a hand over Ginny's forehead. "Sadly, I'm afraid that's just not true, dear. Harry is much more complicated a person than he appears. It will take a very special girl to be able to love him."

"Why? Harry's good, and kind, and so sweet and even innocent at times. And he is incredibly powerful—and he believes in all that is good and right…"  
"And he is destined for greatness," said a voice from within the kitchen.

Ginny and Mrs. Weasley turned. Hermione moved into the sitting room, a cup of tea clutched in her hand. Her face looked strange—old, and careworn. "Do you mind? The boys are outside playing, and it's getting so dark, I can barely see them anymore."

Ginny's mum smiled. "Of course. Have a seat."

"Thank you." She settled into a nearby stuffed armchair. "In many ways—if you don't mind me intruding, Ginny, I couldn't help but overhear a part—I think Harry and Draco are very similar."

"Harry…and Draco?"

Hermione nodded. "They are both expected to fulfill a legacy. At this point, I think Harry understands that, and Draco has known for quite some time what he was expected to do. They are destined for greatness, both of them, and anyone who falls in love with them has to understand that. They have to understand the pressures they are put under, the extreme expectations they and others place upon them—the fears, the desires, the need to do well.

"Whenever those expectations are disappointed, they become a little difficult to live with. Remember what Harry was like last year? He had so much weighing on him, he was nearly unbearable to be around, sometimes. All the anger he'd had pent up inside because of Cedric's death…and no one to turn to, because Professor Dumbledore thought it would be better for him to left in the dark about many things. And all that ended up happening for that 'protection' was that we lost Sirius."

Ginny lowered her head.

"And now," Hermione heaved a great sigh. "He won't say anything about it, but we all know that he's somehow destined to fight Lord Voldemort someday."

Mrs. Weasley flinched; it was still difficult for anyone in Ginny's family to hear Harry say the true name of You-Know-Who, must less Hermione.

Hermione stared at the cup of tea in her hand, her lower lip starting to tremble. "It means he either has to kill someone—or be killed. Knowledge of a fate like that would be difficult for anybody, but it is especially difficult for someone like Harry—someone so unassuming, so kind, who never really sought to be anything special—just someone who wanted to be _normal, _because he was never normal before. Someone who's just learned he never _will_ be normal. Someone who is expected to be a hero, and who has embraced that…against his better wishes, and without any regard as to what might happen to him because of it.

"To be able to love someone like that, you'd have to be a very special person," she said softly. "You would have to understand how he is feeling, and be there for him when he needs you, ignoring everything else. You would have to be his strength, because he will need every bit. And you would, most of all, have to be willing to let him go, because you will never be more important to him than the task he must complete. You would have to give everything for him, including your heart, so that he could give everything for everyone else—and with the chance that you might just lose him forever. I just don't know if there is someone like that out there."

"Cho Chang certainly wasn't," said Ginny stiffly.

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Cho had reasons for being as shallow as she was—and it was true that Cedric was very important to her. But you're right. She should have tried to be understanding. I understood why Harry liked _her_—she was pretty, and smart, and one-hundred percent the kind of girl who led a normal Hogwarts life. Just what he wanted—a simple romance. But he can't have that, and the person who loves him has to understand that. I think he understands that now. I think he understands so well that he's not even going to try anymore."

"Don't be so certain," said Mrs. Weasley softly. "Whenever you don't look for it, that is when it is most likely to be there. He might just consider it if it finds him first."

Hermione smiled, still glancing at her tea. "For his sake, I hope so."

She was silent for a moment, then looked to Ginny with wide eyes. "In any case, that, to me, is how Draco is, a bit. He's just as complicated, if for different reasons."

"Yeah, I guess. But for all the similarities of spirit, there is one major difference, Hermione. With all that Harry has to face, at least you know what side he's on."

"That is a complication—but it isn't any greater a complication than the fact that Harry might possibly give up his life to save everyone else. If Draco betrays you, you lose him. If Harry chooses to sacrifice himself, we lose him. Both losses will lead to an incredible, painful heartbreak. They are two sides of a most perplexing coin."

Ginny pursed her lips. "I never thought on it in that fashion. But still—at least you can trust Harry. Draco, I'm not so certain. Harry won't ever betray anyone he loves for anything—even if he chooses to end his own life, that's not a betrayal, that's a sacrifice.

"With Draco, we have no way of knowing. He could betray any of us at any moment. He could be the reason Harry, or any one of us, has to die. Harry _won't_ be the reason Draco chooses to betray me. Harry's death won't lead to the deaths of others. It will save everyone else. But if Draco does choose his family over me—it might possibly mean the loss of everything and everyone I care about. He could destroy us all, whereas Harry would save us all. That is the fundamental difference between them."

"I do not disagree with you, Ginny. But if you love him, perhaps you should consider Draco's side in all of this. After all, if you were told you'd have to abandon your family because their ideas were the wrong ones, it would probably be difficult for you too. Look at how you feel about Percy."

Mrs. Weasley frowned.

"Beg your pardon, Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione quickly, catching sight of her face, "I didn't mean to…"

"No, dear, in a way, you're right. The fact that Percy betrayed us for his own beliefs, whatever they might be, is very painful, isn't it, Ginny? How we feel about Percy is how the Malfoys would feel about Draco, if he ever abandoned them, and probably to a much greater extreme. And I hope, that somewhere, Percy is just as torn as Draco is about having to choose between his beliefs and his family."

"Doubtful," Ginny sneered.

"Ginny…"

"Right then. So what should I do—be understanding while Draco traipses off to be a Death Eater? Worry forever that while he's telling me he cares about me to my face that he's hurting someone else I love behind my back?"

"No, of course not. But…well—do you believe there is a part of him that is good?" her Mother asked softly.

Ginny thought for a moment. "I believe there is a part of him that can be rede…"

"No," Mrs. Weasley said firmly. "Is there a part of him that's good _now._ Not a part you can 'save'. A part you don't _have_ to save."

"Y-e-ess…" she replied slowly. "There has to be. He couldn't do what he's done—come all the way to The Burrow, speak with Harry—"

"Call me by my name," said Hermione.

"Right. He has to be good. He saved the school—he saved _me._ Inside him, there is a part that is good," she repeated firmly, as much to herself as to the other two. "There is a part of him that won't betray me."

"Then perhaps," said her Mum, stroking her hair, "you need to find a way to make him understand why that is so important to you. Why that part, and no other, is the part that should matter most."

"But what if he doesn't see things my way?"

"If his goodness draws from where I think it does," said Hermione, "then eventually he'll realize you're right. He'll understand that his life isn't so much about trying to change, but rather about accepting that some things are more important than others. "

Ginny sighed. "It sounds wonderful. _If_ he accepts that. But what if you're wrong?"

Hermione glanced at her sadly. "Then for good or bad, at least you have your answer."

----------------------------------------

Draco lay back upon his bed, his arms bent behind his head, staring upward at the ornate canopy drapes that overhung the bedposts. Tenny had tended to his room and returned everything to its rightful place after the mess the Weasel had made of it, save for the absence of _Hogwarts, A History_, which Draco highly suspected Weasley had pinched.

_Pinching an ancient book from your worst enemy, and not understanding why you want it so badly in the first place. He really is as daft as they come._

Still—there was a part of Draco that admired the tenacity. Weasley kept working towards an end, even if he was uncertain what that end was. He did everything in his power to protect his friends, whether that form came in protecting them during dangerous battles with Death Eaters or simply attempting to understand their point of view.

Draco couldn't go that far. He couldn't give up everything to protect someone else. Even when he and Ginny were learning to tolerate one another, he'd never been completely willing to let go to ensure she was safe. Protecting her had been about protecting himself too, whether it was from a manticore, a Dementor or his aunt.

And now his mum…

That smile she'd had on her face—had she always done that? She was taunting him, to be certain, teasing him about his feelings for Ginny as though they were part of a game. Had she said such things—threatened to slap him—because she was trying to insult him?

Or was it because she was trying to protect him?

His mother had _always_ been extremely protective of him. When he was eleven, and had received his Hogwarts letter as he knew he would, his father had pulled him aside, convincing him that the best place for him to attend would be Durmstrang—a school far away, but one where he would get a first hand education in the Dark Arts, which Draco had always desired.

When his mother had heard of his father's intent, she'd put her foot down, telling his flatly that Draco would never leave these shores without her express consent. They'd argued for half the night, back and forth, his father asserting that the best way for Draco to fulfill his "destiny" was to attend a school where they might actually teach him what he needed to learn. His mother had countered that he could learn everything he needed at Hogwarts, and that the noble House of Slytherin and all its attending families shouldn't be snubbed by the leading wizarding family in England because Hogwarts didn't instruct on a few jinxes that would be better taught at home anyway.

That last bit had ceased the argument, his father relenting. That was the way it always was. His father was incredibly powerful, but very few people understood where the true power in Malfoy Manor lay.

_But why would she tease me now…when she supported me last year?_

Was it that she hadn't believed him before—that he had truly fallen for Ginny. Until she saw the mark? What about Ginny slapping him had changed her mind?

Or maybe it wasn't actually the _mark_—it was his reaction to it. He hadn't been angry, as he suspected she thought he would. Even now, as he felt the bruise throb slightly across his cheek, he couldn't be angry. Ginny had done what she had to, in order to protect them both. She had taken a step not many girls would have taken, to protect him from his father—a bold move, running the risk of losing him with such an act, and yet having the faith that he would feel as he did now, not angry, but admiring. That he would be able to forgive her in the end.

He'd gone beyond that—he didn't feel there was anything to forgive. His family had always done what it had needed to in order to survive, Ginny had done the same. She was no different from the Malfoys in that respect.

"And Mother realizes that," he said to himself. Narcissa wasn't just surprised at Draco's reaction, she was probably surprised at Ginny's decision—so similar to what Narcissa would have chosen to do. She'd come to figure out that a love between Ginny and Draco wasn't impossible.

And that bothered her tremendously.

He needed to speak with her, to clear the air.

There were five bells alongside his bed; he tugged on one casually. Tenny popped up next to him in just a moment, smoothing her neat pillowcase.

"Tenny comes, sir," she said, looking slightly exhausted. All the House Elves had been working endlessly to prepare the Manor for his mother's permanent return.

"Tenny, I need to speak with my Mother. Where has she gone?"

"Tenny is uncertain. Archibald may know, sir. Tenny asks."

Without another word, she disappeared. Draco rose from the bed, unbuttoning the first few buttons of his collared shirt, and reached into the front pocket. The picture of Ginny smiled back at him.

_What are you doing now? Are you as upset as I am? What did you do when you got home?_

He smiled. _I bet you spoke with your Mother, and she made you tea and comforted you, telling you what you did was exactly what you should have done. She's also probably assuring you that everything will be alright. They're always telling you everything will be alright. I hope you don't become to naïve about things because of it._

He set the picture down on his mantle, picking up a nearby comb and pulling it through his hair quickly. He then unclipped the prefect's badge, and placed it atop a corner of the picture, leaning forward on his elbows to stare down at it one more time.

Picture Ginny waved to him, smiling. She'd had a slight gap in her teeth in this picture, and it grinned widely at him.

Tenny reappeared with a pop. "Master Draco, Archibald says the Mistress goes into the Night Wing, and is not being disturbed."

"The Night Wing?" Draco's brows furrowed. "What is she doing there?"

"She is not being disturbed. Master Draco is not going out of his rooms." Tenny looked like a commanding officer with that face; it was one she used extremely rarely, and mostly when he had been a very little boy, and didn't understand the distinction in rank between House Elves and wizards.

"Who do you think you are, to speak to me like this? I need to speak with her, _Teenisia_, it is important…"

"She IS NOT to be disturbed, Master Draco," said Tenny, uncharacteristically harsh. "Mistress is giving these commands to Archibald, Tenny and all others, and they is not to be broken, even by the Master of the House, yes? Master Draco stays away from there until the Mistress is calling him."

And in a flash, before Draco could even speak, she was gone.

He stared at the spot where she had been, his face starting to burn. Had he just been given a direct order by a House Elf?

He marched over to the doors of his suite--and found them locked, tightened by the same magic used to seal the door earlier. House Elf magic.

His Mother had been serious, to grant the House Elves such power.

Draco strode back into his room, pulling his wand from his robes, and moved over to the door.

"_Alohomora Maximus_," he said softly.

With a click, the door popped opened. House Elf magic was strong—but wizard magic was stronger, when used properly. He'd have to thank Granger for that one, she'd taught he and Ginny how to master it over the summer.

He moved out quietly into the hall. If his mother was being serious, his rooms would be probably be watched, though attendants at Malfoy Manor were slim these days. Dobby had been particularly good at being watchful.

_Why am I thinking of that traitor of an Elf?_

He wished he'd found some of his father's ancient dark magical objects. There was certain to be an Invisibility Cloak, or a Rune of Silence, somewhere in the mix.

He slunk along the shadows, keeping a wary eye out for Archibald and the others. House Elves weren't good at patrolling, however. They always had to be doing something. And it wasn't as though he'd ever directly disobeyed a direct command before, either. His mother probably thought his knowing he was forbidden from the wing would be enough to keep him away.

Ginny had been a bad influence on him, in that respect.

The Night Wing shimmered with the candelabras that had been lit in the halls. The area was called so because the original constructors of the Manor had refused to put windows anywhere in the wing. Whether it be day or night, the furthest corners of the Night Wing remained enshrouded in black.

He moved swiftly towards the gallery that had intimidated Weasley only the day before. Very few things in the House made Draco shudder, but the large, imposing doors of the Saniescamara were one of them. He'd played it off for Weasley, but the truth was, the red-headed nit had been right. The doors _were _stained dry with blood, but not the blood of sacrifices—the blood of the persecuted. Those purebloods who had been tortured for their believes about pureblood superiority—those who had fallen at the hands of the muggles who believed them dangerous or different, or wizards like Dumbledore, who'd believed them wrong.

Everyone who fell, whose body wasn't charred or drowned, had a part of them painted upon these doors, not just as a reminder, but as an enchantment protection. For anyone without a pureblood heart—or a pureblood spirit—the door would scream with the voices of those whose sacred grounds were being trespassed upon—an evil, bloodthirsty sound that would not stop until the villain had been removed.

Draco had never entered here alone; he'd always accompanied his Mother, and only then for just a short time. But if his mother was in the Night Wing, this is where she would be. Though the Weasleys, and Dumbledore, believed otherwise, it was this chamber, four stories above the ground, that actually held the Death Eater gatherings—not the dank, stark halls of the Malfoy Dungeons.

As the Dark Lord said, the Death Eaters didn't need to hide their faces below ground. They needed to exalt in the heavens, above everyone else, where they belonged.

Draco lay a hand on the twisted snake handles, pushing the doors open slightly, wincing.

The door did not stir.

He grinned. The enchantment could never be broken, so he had passed the test. He was a true pureblood.

The huge room beyond the Saniescamara doors rose to the highest point in Malfoy Manor, a large, tiered tower. The short hall led into a gallery that sat beneath the tower, the moonlight the only thing allowed to filter through the large enchanted glass screens. In here, it was perpetual night. Not a trace of sunlight could come through.

In the center of the room, a black robed figure was standing, waiting. Draco silently pushed the doors closed behind him. He hoped his Mother hadn't lain enchantments for him. As it was only he and her, she would be less likely to, but after the conversation earlier this evening, he wasn't certain.

He crouched in the corner, hidden by the shadows of the high wooden support beams, and waited.

Narcissa Malfoy turned, her pretty silver-blond hair half-hidden by a cloak, eyeing the door. Finding it shut as she'd left it, she turned back to the center of the room, and raised her wand.

"_Lumos_ _Luna_."

The pale moonlight that was filtering through the glass focused into a pinpoint, down through the center of the room, directly below the room's highest point. His mother waved her wand around, directing the light into a series of loops and swirls.

Draco's breath caught. The moonlight had been shaped into a skull, with a long, slithering serpent crawling from the desiccated mouth.

_The Dark Mark._

He'd seen it once before in person, at the Quidditch World Cup, though he known the mark from well before that.

A cold breeze shuddered through the rooms, and silently, figures in black cloaks began appearing. One appeared right near him, and Draco pulled back into the corner, watching as the man pulled his robe down past the mark on his arm, which glowed a bright, icy blue.

One by one the Death Eaters appeared—all those who were not imprisoned in Azkaban, which was not many—moving silently to the center of the room, towards his Mother, who had completely covered her face.

The Death Eaters knelt at her feet, in a huge circle around the Dark Mark. She stepped back, allowing the mark to fade slightly.

"_Apparacia_," she said softly. The Dark Mark reached out again, swirling into an ambiguous mass, until it slowly began to retake shape, to form into a face—old, cold, decrepit.

"Kneel," the face hissed quietly. Narcissa fell to her knees, as low as the other Death Eaters. The glowing face surveyed the area, the only part of the light that shone beyond the silver a pair of startlingly bright red eyes.

Draco felt his breath catch; of all the tales he'd heard, of all that he knew and had been taught, he still hadn't been prepared for this moment.

The Dark Lord.

"You have done well to call them here," he said. His voice was deep, and sharp, cutting through the dense air like a knife.

"My Lord…I beg forgiveness," said his Mother, falling to her chest. "I have betrayed my Lordship with the death of one of his own."

"The death was a deserved one," he hissed. "You may rise, Narcissa. I have no issue with you. Your sister should have known better. Let it be a lesson to any Death Eater that wishes to act out of turn—the Dark Lord tolerates no such actions. Death will fall at the hands of my more loyal servants if such should happen again."

"Yes, my Lord," echoed the prostrate servants around the room.

Narcissa rose to her feet. "Those unjustly imprisoned in Azkaban are awaiting your orders before they break. Are we to move on my Lord?"

The form before her wavered slightly. "Are they ready?"

"They are ready," she said firmly.

"Then we proceed."

"My Lord," said a shaky voice from the outskirts of the circle. "What about Potter? Should not we take care of him first?"

The Dark Lord's silvery face ballooned out into a massive ball of light, exploding throughout the room. Draco slunk back, trying to hide his exposed form.

"POTTER IS MINE!" the Dark Lord screamed, his voice echoing through the room, rattling the timbers and the large door. A faint murmur was heard from within the door's thick wood, a few screams echoing across the blistering silence.

Twelve wands raised around the Death Eater, who fell to his face.

"Forgive me, My Lord!" shrieked the man, whom Draco could faintly recognize as Abalar Zabini. "Please, my Lord, PLEASE!"

The light faded, Draco blinking to clear his vision. "Potter is mine. Do not worry about him, or that fool Dumbledore. We proceed as planned."

"Where shall we begin, My Lord?" said Draco's mother, her voice shaky. "With whom?"

"The graveyard," said the face of the Dark Lord. "Is yours ready?"

Narcissa nodded slightly, the folds of her cloak shimmering. "He will be."

"He will be First. One week's time," he said again. "With the full moon. Be ready, and do not doubt. Tell your husband and the others they break from Azkaban in six days time."

"Yes, my Lord," said Narcissa, bowing low before him. The other Death Eaters followed behind her.

"Seven days," said the Dark Lord softly, his form beginning to fade, "and it begins as Dumbledore could never have imagined."

The light faded out, dispersing as quickly as it had appeared.

Narcissa rose to her feet. "Seven days. Prepare them."

The Death Eaters rose to their feet, and without hesitation, began to glide away, apparating like eerie shadows from within the room.

The Death Eater who had questioned the Dark Lord rose, his cloak drooping from his shoulders. "I am sorry…" he said, directing the words towards Draco's mother.

She stared at him for a moment, her silver eyes barely visible beneath the folds of her cloak.

"_Crucio_."

The other Death Eaters did not pause; they left the room in a continuous wave, not acknowledging the one of their numbers writhing in excruciating pain before them. They had disappeared all together by the time Narcissa chose to lift her curse. She strode over towards the twisted body, her heels clicking on the hard stone of the chamber.

"A warning, Abalar. You would do well to keep your questions to yourself unless spoken to, unless you want Blaise to witness your untimely demise up close and personally."

"N-no, of course not, Narcissa. Forgive me."

"Go."

He stood shakily and raised a trembling wand, his body disappearing in a flash. Draco didn't know how he managed it—apparating took a great deal of concentration, not easy in a rational state of mind, much less when you were in severe pain. More than likely he apparated to a nearby yard—anywhere, just to get away from Malfoy Manor.

Narcissa surveyed the room, sighing. She moved to the center of the room, staring upward at the still focused beam of moonlight.

Draco watched her for a few moments, a pillar of strength. She was frightening. He'd never realized just how frightening she was.

"You can come out now, Draco," she said after a moment. "If you are done with your eavesdropping."

Draco nearly leapt off the ground.

_She knew I was here!_

She was staring directly at him, her gray eyes soft, traces of warmth filtering through. "Come out, Draco. It is time you knew the truth."

He moved towards her. "The truth?"

"About your destiny."

"My destiny?"

"The one you heard me speak of last year."

He moved into the dim rays of moonlight. "Last year…" He was dimly aware he sounded like a broken record.

"When you eavesdropped on my conversation with your aunt."

He quite nearly dropped his wand. "What!"

"Don't look so surprised, Draco. You're not very good at sneaking," she gestured to his hiding place, in the corner. "Kreacher told me about last year. Everything you overheard."

She held an arm out to him. "Come."

He walked over slowly; where Zabini had lain, writhing in pain, the stone was ripped with five identical marks stained in blood. Nail marks, where he'd gripped the stones.

"Come."

When he was next to her, she removed her cloak, allowing her hair to tumble out. "You did as I thought you might, Draco. You held in the secret of Bellatrix's attack until the last possible moment; exhausting all your options before informing Dumbledore. It was how I knew that you would be able to bear this fate, even if you were giving your heart away. You still believe in your blood, your family.

"Which is why," she said, turning to face him, "I can tell you the truth—the entire truth, now. But I have to be careful…quick, I suppose…your heart has wavered as of late, and you are slipping."

Draco glanced aside, at where the Dark Lord had been. "Whatever truth, Mother—I am willing to serve my family. You know that. I would not betray you."

"Of course you would not. Not intentionally. But the best intentions are often mislaid at the most inopportune times. And this time, you cannot afford to be inopportune." She placed her long fingers on Draco's shoulders, turning his face to meet her eyes. "You cannot, because you are the chosen one, my son."

His brows furrowed. "The chosen one? What does that mean? Is that the 'first' _He_ spoke of?"

She nodded. "From the time you were born, your fate has been intertwined with that of the most powerful of all wizards. For within you was born a power he could never have—the power of the purest blood. The Dark Lord has always desired a pure blooded vessel—for even he, the most incredible of all wizards, was cursed with a muggle parent. He cannot even enter our chamber here, because he would be deemed impure." She gestured towards the massive, bloodstained doors.

"The only way he could ensure his strength, and the continuation of the proper order of wizards—those Salazar Slytherin deemed worthy—was to show the world that a pureblood could conquer anything. He could not accomplish this feat—but the children of his followers most certainly could. And those with the purest blood would be the most deserved of all."

Draco watched her, wide-eyed. She ignored his expression, stroking his hair. "You are the purest of all the children—the child of the noble House of Black, and the Noble House of Malfoy—the only child to have such a heritage. Naturally, it would fall to you to become the one destined to take control."

He swallowed. "H-how? How, Mother?"

She grinned. "You share more with the Dark Lord than you know, Draco. You seek power—you have ambition. You love everything about your heritage, about your beliefs. You would defend them to the end of your life, and—as of now, at least—have chosen them above the petty feelings of you heart.

"Those are the desires _He_ shares. What you seek for purebloods is _His_ ultimate goal. You see, you are not so very different. Within you lies all that is Him—one heart, one mind, one spirit.

"And soon," she said softly, her eyes glimmering, "you shall share one body, too."

_Gosh, it seems so long since Chapter 2! But the plot is finally developing nicely, and for all those of you who were wondering, I wasn't laying off completely—I was actually spending most of my time on Chapter 4, which should be out soon—in fact, I've worked on every one of the seven chapters alongside trying to complete this. I hope you enjoy it, and know that the rest of the story should not have so long a hiatus.  
_


	4. Choices

OOTS 4

"One…one body?"

Draco suddenly felt weak, and his head was spinning. "What do you mean, Mother?"

She laughed softly. "I suppose I am being a bit melodramatic. Come, I'll explain a little later. Right now I wish to leave the chamber." She squeezed his shoulder, and moved towards the doors.

"No."

Narcissa turned back to him, her eyes narrowing slightly. "What did you say?"

"I said…I said no."

"Draco, this isn't the proper place…"

"If something is going to happen to me, Mother, I would like to know about it. Right now." There were voices swirling in his head. Ginny, telling him that he wasn't like his family…he, asserting he'd do anything to uphold his family name…

_Anything?_

What she was proposing…the idea was horrifying…

He'd never expected anything like this.

"Mother, please…exactly _what_ is going to happen in seven days time?"

Narcissa sighed. "Draco…you need more time than this to prepare. You can't be expected to know it all right away. Over the course of the next few days, you can learn about it slowly—give you time to become accustomed…"

"NOW. Or I am not leaving this chamber."

"Draco, I…" she came back over to him, her gray eyes searching his determined face. "Alright. I'll tell you what you want to know. But you must brace yourself, the truth will be slightly shocking. You must remember always that what we do is for our race—and is the best solution in the end." She pulled him aside, stroking his hair, and began.

A few moments later, the doors of the Saniescamara screamed open, the blood of the purest of wizarding kind shrieking at the traitorous thoughts swirling around within the soul of one of their own. Faces bubbled in the horrific paint, crying, straining to reach one who would dare betray them.

And Draco Malfoy ran straight past them, slamming the doors back against the wall, barreling to his room. He didn't stop, not to be sick as he wanted to, not to address Tenny, who watched him enter with her ears back—he didn't stop until he'd reached the bag of Floo Powder at the side of his fireplace, threw in the powder, and in a flash of enormous green flame, disappeared from the Manor.

----------------------------

Ginny rested on hand on her palm, staring at the gray, misty evening that had settled on The Burrow.

Harry and Ron had come in from Quidditch, half-soaked, and laughing. They'd quieted slightly with the faces of the three women who sat around the fireplaces, lost in thought.

"Something wrong?" Ron had asked.

Hermione hadn't answered him, just shook her head. Ron pestered them a bit more, but Harry hadn't bothered questioning, just took a nearby book from the table and settled down in one of the chairs near the fire. Ron, finally realizing no one would answer him, disappeared to retrieve one of his comic books, and reappeared in the far corner, chuckling softly to himself of the latest antics of the Mad Muggle.

They'd stayed that way for quite a while, now.

Mrs. Weasley was knitting, her needles flashing furiously before her. Ginny's mum and Hermione had provided comfort, but hadn't answered any questions for her. She still thought she needed to write to Draco, to clear things up—or better yet, to speak to him, though she had no idea how she would do that with Mrs. Malfoy back at the Manor.

And how would she trust him anyway? That was the biggest question.

"Ginny?"

It was Harry who had spoken, laying his book atop his knee and leaning back against his chair. "Are you alright?"

She smiled at him. The idea that this boy, who always worried about others, would never have someone to love him as much as she loved Draco was extremely troubling. "I'm fine Harry."

_Someone had better love him. And they had better love him better than anyone ever loved anyone else._

She smiled at her own stupidity. "Actually, I…"

An enormous burst of green flame exploded through the fireplace, interrupting her and toppling Harry's chair on its side. She, her mother, and Ron stood to their feet in surprise, Ron moving forward to help Hermione up, who'd fallen backwards in the blast.

Harry hoisted himself on his elbow as the spinning form of Draco Malfoy stumbled out of the fireplace, moved forward a few steps, and collapsed on top of him.

"What the—" Ron cried.

"Get OFF!" shouted Harry, shoving Draco quickly aside. Draco sat up as Harry pushed him over. Ginny moved forward, confused.

"Draco? What are you…" she couldn't finish as he glanced up at her for the first time.

An expression of pure terror shadowed his face.

"Ginny…" Draco pulled himself up, pushing aside furniture as he stumbled forwards. Ginny rushed to him, bowing down to catch him as he fell a few moments later. "Draco, what's wrong?"

"I…I can't…"

He collapsed in her arms.

----------------------

Draco held onto her tightly, not wanting to let go. His entire body was trembling, shaking as he clung to her.

Ginny pulled away from him, her head shifting slightly as she tilted his chin, trying to catch his eyes. "Draco, what's wrong?" she repeated.

He raised a quivering hand to his face, brushing his hair aside. His voice wasn't steady.

"I c-can't…"

"Draco? Draco, what's wrong, you're scaring me!"

He felt his knees weaken, and he bent to the ground. "I…I…"

"DRACO!"

Tears were rolling down Ginny's face. "You're really scaring me, Draco! What's wrong, what's the matter? Please tell me!"

"T-the room…t-the s-sacrifice…they want m-me..."

"What?"

"My Mother…she'd mentioned it before…that I was important…that I was needed. I h-had a role to fill. I didn't understand what it meant before…I…I…can't…"

There was a burning pain in his stomach. "I can't…"

The heat rose to his chest, spreading throughout his body. "I can't…" he heard himself whisper.

Darkness engulfed him.

----------------------------------

"…don't know _what_ to bloody think, this. What on earth could be the matter with him?"

"I never thought Malfoy'd be so scared out his mind he'd actually _faint_. Bit like my third year, that. Guess he finally knows how it feels."

That was Potter's whiny voice.

Draco's eyes shot open. Ginny was bending over him, glancing towards the corner. In the distance, Granger was standing beside Potter, who had his hands tucked in his pockets. Both were covered in soot.

Weasley stood next him, a smirk on his face. "Speaking of the Sleeping Coward…"

"Shut up, Weaselbeak."

Ginny whirled around, her hair flying out in a scarlet curtain. "DRACO! Oh my god, are you alright?"

Potter raised an eyebrow, walking over towards them. "You really gave Ginny a scare there, m…Malfoy. What happened to you?"

"NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!" he snapped.

"DRACO!" Ginny cried, "what in the BLOODY HELL is going on?"

He stared at her a moment. She had her arms crossed, but her face was a white as a sheet, her abundant freckles glaring at him. Her eyes were reddened around the edges.

"Not with them," he hissed, nodding towards Potter. "Make them go."

Potter raised an eyebrow. "What…"

"Go," Ginny said, turning to them. "And shut the door behind you."

Weasley frowned. "Ginny…"

"GO."

"Granger can stay," said Draco suddenly.

The room went completely silent. Granger's eyes widened. Potter and Weasley both stared at him in shock. It was really rather satisfying, but Draco didn't have time to bother enjoying it. "Let Granger stay."

Ginny shrugged.

"Wait one moment," said Weasley darkly, but Potter put a hand on his arm. "Let's go mate. No funny business, Malfoy," he said over his shoulder.

The door slammed shut behind them.

"Can you put a sound proofing charm on the room?" Draco asked Granger. She nodded, and pulled her wand from her pocket.

"_Echo regenerum._"

There was a sound like air being sucked through a sealed cave. His voice echoed slightly when he spoke again.

"I know you have to tell them, but I want to make sure one part of this is understood _completely._ This doesn't leave this house as being from my lips, is that understood? If anyone finds out I've revealed this, especially to you, then you, Potter, Weasley and Ginny will be in _very_ serious danger. You found out from anyone you want…but me."

Granger nodded warily, her eyebrows furrowing. "What is all of this about?"

He set his lips. _I never in a million years believed I'd be speaking about something like this so frankly to a mudblood. How could things have gone so wrong?_

Ginny sat beside him, taking a hand in her own. His doubts seemed to vanish as he stared at her worried face.

"Last year," he began softly, "when I returned to the Manor to discover my aunt had been…_staying_ in our house, I overheard her plans to attack Hogwarts as she described them to my Mother."

Ginny's eyes tightened slightly at this. Draco had chosen not to reveal those plans until only a few hours before the Dementor attack—his mother found it admirable, but Ginny had hated him for it. He hadn't told Narcissa, but it was actually a decision he regretted significantly.

Right now, however, regrets of the past were irrelevant.

"My Mother questioned the nature of the attack—and wondered how the Slytherins were going to escape. When Bellatrix seemed to brush off that notion, my Mother warned her—threatened her really—and reminded her that the Slytherin children were important.

"She mentioned me in particular, about my importance, but I only thought she was referring to me because I was her son. All she said was that we were needed.

"I didn't think much of it at the time…but it's different now…everything's different!" he said, clenching his teeth. "How could I not have seen it before?"

"What about it is different, Malfoy? What's happened?" asked Granger, a serious expression on her face.

"When I returned to the Manor last night—I…I…" he shuddered.

"What?" pressed Ginny.

"I saw…_him_."

Ginny's eyes widened. Granger's breath seemed to catch in her throat. "You don't mean…V-Voldemort?"

Draco swallowed, and nodded. "The Death Eaters, they came. My Mother led them. She did horrible things. And she mentioned—in seven days time…"

"What?"

"When He was gone, she found me hiding. She wanted to wait to tell me, but I insisted…I forced her to tell me…"

"What did she tell you?" asked Granger patiently.

"She told me…_everything_…"

"Everything?"

"Everything." He took a deep breath, and began.

------------------------------

"What is going _on_ in there?" said Ron, tapping his fingers on the table. Harry played with the makeshift Snitch they'd been using earlier, tossing it up into the air and catching it lightly with the tips of his long fingers. Ron had never noticed before, probably because he was so much taller when they stood side by side, but Harry _had_ gained some height here and there. He was thin, and built, though in a sinewy way, and his fingers and arms especially seemed longer.

Perfect for Quidditch, and for controlling a wand. Both of which Harry was keenly good at.

"Y'know, if that were real and you could do that, it'd be wicked. I bet you could."

Harry stopped tossing the ball into the air, staring at him as though he'd grown a second head.

"What? You don't think you could? I know you could, as good as you are as a Seeker. I wish I could do it."

"Don't you think it'd be a bit of showing off?"

"Only if you were doing it in the middle of the halls at Hogwarts or something. Otherwise I think it'd be good practice."

His friend grinned, the smile causing the edge of his eyes to crinkle. It was good to see; Harry very rarely smiled these days.

"I should probably ruffle my hair about too," he said softly with a chuckle. "Although, you do that quite enough for the both of us."

"I do not!" said Ron indignantly.

"Oh no? What about after the Quidditch Cup last year? And the year before?"

"My hair was a mess!"

"So…you made it more of a mess, is that it?"

"No, I…" Ron felt his face turning red. "Alright, there wasn't any point to fixing it, so might as well ruffle it up a bit to make it more comfortable."

Harry had one eyebrow raised; after a moment he went back to tossing the fake snitch in the air, the grin still on his face.

"What _are_ they talking about?" Ron hissed, setting his chin atop his hand.

"Must be something rather important," said Harry absently, eyes glued to the task at hand. "For Hermione to have cast a soundproofing charm."

"She cast a soundproofing charm?" Ron turned to the door. "No WONDER it seemed so quiet in there! Say, how did you know that?"

Harry paused in his snitch tossing again. "Didn't you hear the sound? Like the seal on vacuum? That's customary for a soundproofing charm."

Ron stared at him. Harry had always been fairly clever, but somehow, over the course of the past year, he'd become downright Hermione-like in his knowledge of the magical arts. Not that he'd have any reason not to—Harry seemed to inadvertently be capable of anything, and he'd only gotten worse as he got older.

"What's a 'vacuum?'" Ron asked.

The door behind them clicked open. Ron heard something like a _squelching_ sound as it pulled from the frame.

Hermione came out, her face very grave. "Harry, Ron…we need to talk."

Ron lifted his chin from his hands; Harry missed the snitch; it soared passed him as he sat up in his chair. "What is it, Hermione?"

"We've got a problem—or rather, Draco does. And we have to find a way to solve it, or we're all in trouble."

Ron glanced at Hermione, then at Harry, who was staring at her with a troubled expression. "Is it Voldemort?"

She nodded. "But more…so much more. We've got to hurry. We don't have much time."

---------------------------------

Ginny sat beside Draco, holding softly to his hand. Hermione had given him a Sleeping Draught she'd cooked up at his request. Now he was sleeping—finally.

She stared down at his long fingers, which were still clammy.

She hadn't been able to bring herself to look directly at his face. Her ears were still ringing with what he'd told her and Hermione.

_I am supposed to be the first of a group of Voldemort's followers to take on his powers. I will become him, and he will become me. The First of the new generation of Death Eaters. But to become like him, I have to voluntarily give up a part of me. I don't understand it…I don't understand exactly how. But I understand why..._

Ginny didn't understand. His mother had seemed so protective of him—why would Narcissa Malfoy allow her son to be taken away from her?

How could she allow even a part of him to be destroyed?

She swallowed.

Draco stirred for a moment. His blond hair was plastered to his forehead, damp with sweat.

"Draco…why does it have to be so hard for you?" she brushed the hair from his forehead.

_He's suffered so much…_

But something within her felt uneasy. Draco was scared by what he'd seen, certainly…but as he'd been explaining what had happened, he'd tried to rationalize it, as he always did. Even in the face of something horrible, he'd continued to defend his family's honor and beliefs.

There was a nervous fluttering in her chest. _Why am I so frightened of what is to come? He left his house as quickly as he could. Certainly he wouldn't choose to go back there…to go back to Voldemort. _

_Certainly not…Certainly not…_

_Certainly…_

-------------------------------------

"So that's it, then? A great bloody Death Eater ceremony?" Ron looked lazily at Hermione, seemingly unconcerned.

"That's _IT?_ It doesn't bother you that Voldemort is going to be taking children and turning them into his slaves?"

"You can't be a slave if you go willingly."

"You'd say the same thing about House Elves, wouldn't you?" she said sharply. "After all, they seem to like what they're about, right, Ron? They choose to be captives against their better judgment."

Ron opened and shut his mouth for a moment; if he was going to add anything, he thought better of it.

Hermione turned to Harry. He was staring at her silently, his face pale, his scar a jagged blue streak. "What do you think?"

He heaved a sigh. "I think Ron's right, Hermione."

"_WHAT_?"

"I don't see the 'children' as being like House Elves. House Elves haven't experienced the difference between slavery and freedom, so they don't know any better. They don't really know there are better opportunities out there for them.

"But the children of the Death Eaters do. Most of them have been to Hogwarts, have met people like you and me and Ron, and so they know what choices are out there for them. Yet they're going to this 'ceremony' to give themselves over just the same."

"But…but Harry! They haven necessarily been taught what's right! Look at Malfoy! It took a very significant event to change him."

"_Change him_?" spat Ron suddenly. "He hasn't changed. He hasn't changed one bit!"

"I'm sorry?" said Hermione crossly. "Is he not in love with your sister? Does he not have a better disposition? We've been over this before."

"In _particulars,_ Hermione, he might be trying to improve, but in general he's still the same Malfoy. Has he decided to give up on the Dark Arts, and his family? Not at all! He's still devoted to You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters. Who wants to bet he's still willing to go through with this ceremony!"

"And what about Ginny?"

"What ABOUT Ginny?" Ron shook his head. "He might care about her—he might even love her—but obviously not enough to want to be with her always! Everything he does just ends up hurting her more! Look at all the pain and worry he's caused her!"

"Sometimes," Hermione hissed, narrowing her eyes, "people say horrid things to people they really care about, because they don't know any better. Sometimes they don't tell people they're in love with the absolute truth, because they don't realize that their actions actually do nothing more than _hurt_ the person they care about."

Beside him, Harry coughed.

Ron stared at her, his eyes widening. "Wha…bah…that…not…I…wh…"

"In any case, it's never as easy as the black and white you want to make it," she sniffed.

"No, it's not," said Harry seriously. "But in a way, the choice still has to be left up to the chooser. What are we going to do—barge into the middle of the ceremony and demand that the Death Eaters let their children go?"

"Well, no," she replied slowly. "But we have to find some way…"

"I think we should tell Dumbledore," Harry said. "He will have a better idea of what to do. We can't just go around saving the world on our own. I think we've all learned that."

Hermione nodded. "You're right, Harry."

"Then I'll send an owl to Dumbledore right away," Ron said, his face still red. "I'll use Pig, he goes pretty quickly."

"Let's just hope," Hermione said as Ron headed towards his room, "that Professor Dumbledore will have an answer."

----------------------------------

There was a dim light surrounding him.

Something warm was in his hand.

He opened his eyes. A glittering mass of red was in front of him, shining in the dim sunlight of the early morning.

Ginny's face swam into view, tilted to the side, her eyes closed peacefully. She had his hand in her own, her fingers curled around his.

He smiled at her. She looked so peaceful.

His smile faded slowly. _I'll never be able to bring her this kind of peace. She can sleep because she feels safe…but she feels safe here, not just because she's with me._

Draco withdrew his fingers, trying not to disturb her.

Whatever fate lay in store for him, she could not be a part of. He didn't want to disturb her peace. He probably shouldn't have come here in the first place. But he'd had no other choice. When his Mother had told him—told him he was essentially to _become_ Lord Voldemort—he'd needed to get away.

He still couldn't believe it. He'd figured the children of the Death Eaters would serve the Dark Lord in the same way their parents had—but never imagined it could extend this far.

_For us…for all of us—to take a part of him inside us…to allow him to destroy a piece of our soul…_

Granger had called it monstrous.

What in him would change? What part of him would be destroyed?

Ginny stirred next to him.

He realized with some surprise that he'd had no intention of staying here. In fact, the idea of turning his Mother down had never crossed his mind. He'd never considered not being a part of the ceremony. It was his duty, wasn't it?

_Isn't it?_

The idea of it shook him to the core. It terrified him beyond anything he'd felt before, including the bats, the manticore, the Dementors—even his Aunt. But he would still go through with it, if it meant upholding his beliefs.

And, he realized, he did believe.

And Ginny didn't.

With him, she wasn't safe. No one was. He had to leave here, lest his mother come looking. He wished he hadn't said anything to anyone. If Granger said anything to anyone beyond Potter and the Weasel, they would know from whom it came.

There was writing desk on the nearby table. It would be easier to write her a letter—she wouldn't be able to read his face. He could still leave her some assurance, some hope, that all he felt for her would come be stronger than anything the Death Eaters might do to him.

He slipped out of the bed, looking back to her sleeping form one last time, scribbled out a short note, sealed it, and quietly slipped through the door.

---------------------------------

"This is very serious. He is attempting this quite a bit sooner than I expected."

"You've known he could do this?" said Mrs. Weasley sharply, staring at the Headmaster in consternation. He had sent them a reply last evening before they went to bed, letting them know he would be apparating at The Burrow in the morning.

"Of course, Molly. We have been aware of all the types of magic Voldemort might try to employ to increase his power. We just never expected he would try this so quickly. It requires a great deal of concentration—and certainly more Death Eaters than he has now. He would have to rely upon them for his ultimate protection, and we presumed he would attempt to deal with Harry first, since he perceives him as the greatest threat. Perhaps I have given too little credit."

"What do you think they'll do?" asked Harry.

"I am not certain. The choice of becoming a part of Voldemort seems rather extreme, but then again, most of the Death Eaters were Slytherins, and ambition is in their blood."

"How they could choose to do something like that is beyond me," sighed Ron. "They're all mad as hatters."

"What they believe is what they believe," said Dumbledore quietly. "But I must inform the Order—they need to know about this as soon as possible. There is the chance we might be able to stop the ceremony from occurring, particularly as it is predicated upon the full moon.

"But you'll be short one member, right?" said Ron.

"Perhaps," Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, "or perhaps we have a greater asset than Voldemort imagines."

"Wow…" Ron murmured after a moment of silence. "I never considered that."

"In any case, we must be prepared. Try and keep an eye on Mr. Malfoy. I'll speak with Arthur should there be any further developments.

Harry and the others nodded.

Dumbledore nodded to them one last time. "And under no circumstances are any of you to attempt to find a way to stop this _on your own_. Do you understand?"

The trio nodded, looking puzzled.

"Of course they won't," said Mrs. Weasley, with her arms crossed.

"No one. I want to make myself perfectly clear. Many, many things can go wrong with this plan—I don't want to see you in the middle of it," Dumbledore's eyes had lost their customary twinkle—in fact, he'd not smiled at them from the moment he apparated into Mrs. Weasley's living room. "You remember the Ministry, of course."

Harry stiffened.

"Yes, Headmaster," said Hermione quickly, catching sight of his face.

"Let me know if you learn anything else," the Headmaster said. He turned back to the, giving them a reassuring look as he caught sight of their faces.

"Try to be strong. These are merely trials to prepare you for what lies ahead. You must take them as they come."

They stepped back from him, Ron and Hermione nodding, while Harry looked at the floor. Dumbledore raised his wand, and disappeared.

"Why does everyone always have to bring up the Ministry?" said Harry heatedly.

"Er…don't take it personally, mate," said Ron. "He wasn't directing it at you, just pointing out what happened, so we wouldn't forget."

"We _won't_ forget," replied Harry angrily.

His friends glanced at one another.

"We should probably wake Ginny and Malfoy," said Hermione.

"DRACO!"

"Don't have to look far," Ron replied.

They came around the corner, managing to step back as Ginny barreled down the hall, flinging open the door. "DRACO!"

"What's wrong, Ginny?" Harry asked.

"Draco's gone!" she cried. "I fell asleep, and when I woke up, he was gone! I found this!" she held out a letter addressed to her in Malfoy's elegant handwriting.

"Well…he has to be around here somewhere," said Hermione. "After all, we were in the parlor, so he couldn't have Flooed from there."

"He hasn't learned to apparate yet, has he?" said Harry.

Ginny shook her head. "And he came through the Floo, so he has no broomstick."

"Could he have Flooed in the night?"

"He took a Sleeping Draught I concocted. He should have slept for nearly eight hours, at least," said Hermione.

"Any chance it wasn't as strong as you thought it was?" asked Ron.

"NO," replied Hermione huffily.

"What about his mum's connections in the country?" Harry said. "Could he have snuck out to them?"

Ginny shook her head. "He refused to tell me about them. Though I bet it's the Crumholtzes, they're the only wealthy family in this area. In any case, he hated them—and I don't think he'd go back there anyways, they'd probably wonder why he was at The Burrow."

"What about the village? Are there any public Floo systems down there?"

"There's a bakery…and a confectioners. And the meat market. But he'd have to have some Floo powder, wouldn't he? And its not exactly a "wizarding" kind of place."

"Well, we'll spread out and have a look," said Hermione. "He can't have gone far."

-------------------------

An hour later, they returned to the Burrow, Mrs. Weasley looking rather distressed. Ginny was seated at the kitchen table, thumbing the letter in her hands.

Harry walked in, putting his broom aside. "He wasn't at the town. No one had seen a pale, blond boy walk by."

Ron was standing near the fridge. "He didn't go to the Crumholtzes either. Not that I got a chance to really ask them anything. Their House Elf had me off the property faster than I could blink. And Hermione says none of the other families have seen him either."

"Where could he have gone too? Surely he's not walking to the Manor!" said Ginny, sniffling.

"Where could who have gone? To what Manor?" asked her father, wiping his hands on a cloth. Hermione was behind him, looking exhausted.

"I asked the back neighbors, but they haven't seen him either," she said, collapsing into a chair.

"Seen who?" asked Mr. Weasley.

"Malfoy," said Harry.

"Oh, Malfoy!" said Mr. Weasley. "I saw him just a few moments ago. Flooed home. I thought you knew."

"WHAT!" screeched Ginny and Mrs. Weasley at the same time.

Mr. Weasley nearly dropped his handkerchief. "What? He stopped by my shed, asked if I could light a fire in my fireplace—said he didn't want to disturb the house—borrowed some Floo powder, and left."

"AND YOU LET HIM?" yelled Ginny.

"ARTHUR! HOW COULD YOU?" cried Mrs. Weasley.

"What? What did I do?" said Mr. Weasley, looking baffled. "I thought I was being helpful!"

"How long ago did he leave?" asked Hermione.

"About an hour…he said he really had to go home, that it was important. Was I wrong to let him go?"

"YES!"  
"No, Arthur," said Mrs. Weasley quickly.

Mr. Weasley shrugged. "O-okay."

Mrs. Weasley placed a soothing hand on Ginny's head. "You'll just have to see if you can find a way to contact him. In the meantime, why don't you read what he left you?"

Ginny glanced up at the group, who were all staring at her with worried expressions. "Right…thanks."

She rose, trudging slowly towards the stairs, trying to avoid their faces, especially Ron, who looked more triumphant than vexed.

She sealed her room with the same soundproofing charm she'd seen Hermione use earlier, and glanced down at the letter, turning it over and over in her hands, afraid to open it.

"What if this is goodbye?" she murmured softly. She thought Draco was still in the middle of everything—but what if he had decided?"

She ripped through the seal quickly, unfolding the letter.

_Ginny,_

_Everything has come to an end. There is no choice for me now. I am bound by what my family has done to be who I am._

_But I don't want to fall into this. Know that. Because of you, I will go unwillingly, no matter what the consequence might be or how I feel about my heritage. I just simply have no choice._

_But I will not abandon you, I promise._

_I promise._

_Draco._

Ginny stared at the letter in her hand. The writing was harshly scratched—written in agitation, the pen streaking across the paper. He'd not even sealed it properly, the badge's indentation was twisted in the sealing wax.

"Draco," she whispered.

_Where has this gone wrong?_

She had always known, even before the attack on Hogwarts, when she first realized that the loathing she had felt for him had become something else, that a relationship between them would be difficult. But after listening to him mourn over and over the state of his family, of his name, after trying to see things from his point of view, she was confused as to who needed to change.

_Everyone tells ME I should be more understanding. But here he is, willing to absorb a part of You-Know-Who into himself, simply because of a NAME!_

She threw herself back on her bed, crumpling the letter in her hand. "Why do you have to be so bloody stubborn!"

Below her, Harry was probably getting ready to sit down with her brother and Hermione for supper. _I suppose I am downplaying his beliefs—after all, Harry would never give up his family name. It means too much to him. Why should he ask such a thing of Draco?_

But Harry's name wasn't associated with evil. His parents hadn't committed evil acts. Lily and James Potter had fought for the protection of each other, and for the protection of their son. No innocents had died at their hands.

Lucius Malfoy had never considered the state of his family, just the nature of the pureblood race. And though Narcissa cared about Draco, it was obvious that her son's life wasn't as important as his purpose.

She was not fighting against heritage. She was fighting against a way of life—a history of darkness.

Suddenly the truth became very clear.

_It isn't my family that has been in the wrong—it isn't I that has been in the wrong. Draco is the one who needs to understand that he has a choice in the matter—and that he has a choice to make. No matter how much his name means to him, Draco will have to find a way to overcome what his family is, because if he doesn't, then what he'll become is Voldemort. And not just a part of him. He'll become him completely._

_He HAS to understand that—otherwise…otherwise, we can't go on…_

She knew what she had to do.

-----------------------------

Draco tapped his fingers on the windowpane. The sun was slowly setting, causing fuzzy shadows to crawl atop the perfectly polished glass.

Six more days until the 'ceremony'.

His Mother hadn't spoken to him when he returned. He'd acknowledged her with a nod of his head, and went directly to his room.

She hadn't bothered to come up, probably believing it would be best to leave him alone for a bit.

After all, her greatest fear had been relieved. Rather than leaving for good, he'd come back.

He sat back in his chair, crossing his arms. His brief visit to The Burrow had brought back the warmth he felt over the holidays, but it hadn't soothed him. Only the Manor brought him that comfortable sort of peace.

But that didn't change the ache he felt, leaving Ginny. He hoped she had received his letter. It would in no way make up for what he was going to sacrifice, but at least it would soothe her a little until this entire process was complete. What he'd written was the truth. He had no intention of giving up the part of him that loved her. It was too important—it was his life.

Unless he had no choice in the matter…but then, it wouldn't matter…

There was a tap at his door.

"Enter."

Christopheson, one of the few wizarding servants who worked for them, stuck his head in, his nose pointed upwards. Obviously his mother wanted someone a bit more reliable than a House Elf to check up on him. "Master Draco, a letter has arrived for you, sir."

"Thank you." He nodded towards the mantle.

Christopheson entered, carrying a silver platter with the letter atop it. "You may want to consider opening it sir," he said cordially as he placed it atop the fireplace. "it came with a very _tatty_ looking owl." He looked pointedly at Draco for a moment, sniffed, and left the room quickly.

Draco pulled himself from his armchair and moved to the mantle, taking the thin, brown-wrapped envelope into his hands carefully. His name was written delicately on the front.

_Ginny…_

_Dear Draco,_

_I hope this letter reaches you in time. If you, I'd like to see you just once more. Please meet me in the courtyard of St. Ettington. I'll be there at eleven._

_Please come if you can._

_Love, _

_Ginny_

He stared at the letter a moment, his brows furrowed.

_St. Ettington is only a few miles from here…_

Why would she run the risk? It was easy for him, but for her…

He needed to see her. He wanted to. He rose moving over to his desk, and took out a quill.

----------------------

"I've sent a letter to Draco," Ginny said briskly, walking into the kitchen. Harry was seated at the table, a large book propped open, his fingers twirling through his wild black hair.

He glanced up from his studies. "What?"

"Hmmm," she leaned over his shoulder. "Still into _Hogwarts, A History?_ Hermione will be pleased, at least."

"Considering what happened last year, it might be worth it to know a bit more about the school," he said with a grin. "And Ron, of all people, said it was a good read. Now what was that?"

Ginny sat at the table with two crackers. "I've sent a letter to Draco. I'm going to meet him tonight. I think I'm going to ask him to come and live with us."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Do you really think he might say yes?"

She paused, her cracker raised to her mouth. "What do you mean? If I can get him to live here, then perhaps I can finally convince him that Dumbledore is right."

Harry shrugged. "I wouldn't get my hopes up, Gin. He's turned you down before. And he IS a Malfoy."

She set her cracker down, shattering it. "Why do you _always_ have to say that?"

He narrowed his eyes for a moment. "Because it's true."

"He will never be able to change if you continue to think that way!"

He frowned. "I'm sorry, Ginny. I'm just giving you an honest answer. The Malfoy family hasn't given me much reason to hope for the better."

"He's not really the one who should give us reason to hope. You're the one who should give him hope."

"What?"

"Harry," Ginny glanced up towards him. "You are the 'hero' in this whole…_thing_. You're the one people look up to. If you make the effort to get to know Draco—to try and understand him, to encourage him—then perhaps he will make the effort to understand you back. And try for the better."

Harry sighed, shaking his head, and leaned over the table, placing his hands on hers. "Ginny—I'm no hero. And _I'm_ not the one who started this _thing_ in the first place. When Voldemort attacked us—attacked my family—I was placed into the middle."

He shook his head, his wild black fringe swaying over his forehead, shifting past his small, lightning bolt-shaped scar. "But I do understand that my circumstances, and my purpose, made me different from everyone involved, and hopefully, I can do something to prevent him from bringing pain to anyone else.

"Mal--…er, _Draco_—has been a part of Voldemort's world. That's not my fault, or anyone else who fights against Voldemort. That is the circumstance—or rather choice—of those who desired to follow him.

"It's not we who have to change Malfoy. It is _he_ who needs to change for us. Or rather, for you."

"I'm not sure if he can," she said slowly, staring at him. "Why…why can't you try and find a way to reach him?"

Harry frowned. "Ginny…"

Hermione's words the other night came sharply to her.

"…_someone so unassuming, who never really sought to be anything special—just someone who wanted to be normal, because he was never normal before. Someone who's just learned he never will be normal…someone who is expected to be a hero, and who has embraced that…_ _against his better wishes, and without any regard as to what might happen to him because of it…_

"I'm sorry, Harry," she said, rising from the table. "I guess…I guess I just…don't know who else to blame. I know it's not your fault."

"It's not anyone's fault. You just have to do what you can to persuade him. It will take every last bit of resolve you have to fight whatever's in him that draws him to the dark. And if you can't, then it will take every last bit of resolve you have to let him go."

She moved towards the mantelpiece. "What if I can't?" she whispered.

"Ginny…" Harry stood, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her. The embrace was exactly what Charlie used to do, when she would come in, crying, because Fred, George and Ron had left her behind. "I'm sorry this is so difficult for you. I'm sure if you keep trying, you'll find a way to make it work."

She sighed, letting herself be drawn into the comfort of his arms. It had been quite a while since she felt that safe and warm. "Thank you, Harry."

"Ginny…" Ron came through the kitchen door, a letter in hand, followed by Hermione. "Is everything…alright?" he asked as he took in the two of them, a grin spreading across his face.

Harry released Ginny, who crossed her arms. "Fine, Ron."

"We received a letter for you," said Hermione, holding out a thick piece of parchment. 'Ginny' was scrawled across the front in Draco's elegant hand. Hermione had an eyebrow raised. "It came from Malfoy's gray eagle owl."

"Thank you," said Ginny. "And thank you, Harry, for everything."

Harry smiled softly. "You're welcome, Ginny."

She clutched her letter to her chest, and left the room.

-------------------------

"What was that all about?" asked Hermione briskly, crossing her arms after Ginny had left the room. "Was she alright?"

"She was fine," said Harry, seating himself at the table. "She just needed a little support."

"Well, the more 'support' you want to give her, the better," said Ron snidely. "I fully encourage your 'support.'"

Hermione glared at him.

"Ron," said Harry seriously. "Nothing was going on. Ginny _is_ in love with Malfoy and she was really worried about him. No amount of your wishing otherwise is going to change that. From time to time she needs someone to talk to, and today, I happened to be here to listen."

"With your arms?"

"Honestly, Ron," said Hermione. "You really are unbelievably thick sometimes."

"Look, everyone here would be much better with the idea of a 'Harry-Ginny' match than a 'Draco-Ginny' match. Why should I be the thick one if I'm just voicing the opinion of everyone?"

"Who would be better off with that?" said Hermione. "That's _your_ opinion. Harry should be able to love who he wants to."

"That's right," said Harry, looking slightly irritated. "I'd like to think I had some say in who I want to fall in love with, if I fall in love at _all,_ not just pick someone because everyone wants me to."

"Never mind," said Ron, slightly flustered. "Forget I said _anything_."

"Fine," returned Hermione and Harry in unison.

They sat at the table for a moment in silence.

"Harry," said Hermione suddenly. "Why would you say 'fall in love at all?' Don't you think you can fall in love with someone?"

"I've tried it before," Harry snorted. "Not a big fan of what happened _last time_, so I don't think I'll bother with it again."

"Just because Cho disappointed you doesn't mean you don't deserve to fall in love again, right Ron?"

Ron shrugged. "He's not going to let everyone influence him, remember? If he wants to love someone, he'll decided who and when and where."

"Have I mentioned just how insensitive you are?"

"Can we stop talking about this please?" said Harry. "My love life isn't exactly something I'd like to put up for discussion—and it's the least of what we should be worrying about right now.

"Besides," he said, toying with a knickknack on the tabletop. It looked like a plucked chicken with three feet. "There's no guaranteeing anything these days, so why take the risk?"

"What do you mean by that?" asked Ron. Hermione's gaze was locked onto the cup in front of her.

"Look…Voldemort's not going anywhere. And from everything we know, we—or rather I—am the one who is going to have to face him in the end. If that is the case, who knows what the outcome will be? It's safer for everyone—Ginny, or anyone else—if I don't have someone I'm attached to."

"Don't say that, Harry. You'll win this. We'll defeat Voldemort, in the end…"

"Do you know that for certain?" he asked seriously.

"Of course not…but…you have to have faith. Right, Hermione? Hermione?"

She started. "What?"

"Isn't that right? No giving up hope?"

She paused for a moment, tapping her cup softly, and finally looked up. "Don't give up on anything, Harry. Whenever you don't look for it, that is when it is most likely to be there."

He and Ron exchanged confused glances. "What?"

Hermione looked between the two of them. "What were you talking about?"

"Er, fate, destiny, destroying You-Know-Who once and for all…nothing important," said Ron with a half-grin.

"Of course I believe those things are important, Ronald!"

"There we are," said Ron, looping his arms over the two of them. "All of this will work itself out in the end." He glanced behind him, where Ginny had gone.

"I just hope we can say the same for her."

---------------------------

Ginny toyed with the thin piece of parchment. Draco had scrawled, in his neat hand:

_I'll be there._

Before, she would have been overjoyed. But the talk she'd had with Harry had placed a few doubts in her mind.

_Is this the right thing to do? To ask so much of Draco? _

She grinned. _Blasted Potter. _He really WAS annoyingly right all the time.

But he was also her friend. And he did everything he could to see to it that she was safe and protected.

_And he's going to have to do more._

But she was also going to have to do more to help him as well.

She crumpled the parchment in her palm. "I can't keep this up, Draco. So I'll leave it for you to decide," she whispered to herself.

Her wardrobe contained her best cloak. Something suitable for night flight.

And for final choices.

------------------------------------

"My dark cloak—the one with the hood," Draco told Tenny. "Be quick. And inform my Mother that I'm going for a walk around the village. I'll only be a few moments."

The House Elf nodded. "Of course, Master Draco sir. But…why is you going to town so late?"

He smiled slightly. Despite her attitude, it was nice to have _someone_ to tell. "I'm going to meet the young miss."

Tenny's grin grew by three lengths. "I'll make sure Lady knows Master Draco is only walking, nothing more."

"Thank you, Tenny."

She smiled, and took his cold fingers in her soft, leathery hand. With a snap, they were in the front of the Manor.

Tenny released him. "Good luck to you, Master Draco sir," she said.

Within a few moments he was heading towards the quiet center of Ettington Town.

---------------------------------------

When Ginny told Harry what she was planning to do, he'd said nothing, just watched her with sad eyes.

_The funny part is, he has no idea how big a part he plays in all this._

"Can you cover for me? Just tell my Mum that I went out to walk about St. Catchpole for a little while. If Ron or Hermione asks, I suppose you can tell them…"

"I won't tell them anything. It's really none of their business, except your safety," he said softly. "Be careful, Ginny. And make sure you come straight back, or I'm coming to Malfoy Manor after you."

"I'm certain they'll love that," she grinned.

"I'm certain I won't," he said back with a smile.

St. Ettington was something of a journey by broomstick, but Harry had lent her the Firebolt, which cut the time nearly in half. The village of St. Ettington, which rose nearby the Manor, was quiet this time of night. Ginny landed softly on the outskirts of town, wrapped the Firebolt in her cloak, and headed for the courtyard.

It was only a few paces into the center of town, nearer the village shops than any of the homes. A great stone gazebo rose in the center of it, a statue of a fanged serpent wrapped around a lion gracing the arc-like top. It was one of the few wizarding monuments left that everyday muggles would use for themselves without knowing the difference.

Draco stood at the edge of the courtyard, a black cloak wrapped around him, the hood pulled atop his head. Ginny stopped for a moment.

_He looks just like a Death Eater_.

Ginny's heart began to beat faster as he turned, a small smile spreading across his face.

She trotted over to him, wrapping her arms around him. "I'm so glad you came," she said softly, pulling the hood from his head.

"How could I not come? Flying all the way to St. Ettington—are you mad?"

"Your last letter frightened me. Draco, the whole thing frightens me!"

He sighed. "I didn't mean to make the situation sound so dire. But I just wanted you to know I wouldn't be available to see you for a little while."

"Draco…have you spoken with your Mother?

"No. I think at this particular moment, she wants me to sort things out for myself." He grimaced. "I don't believe it would matter anyway."

_Because she's the one who started this whole thing…_

"What about Dumbledore? I'm certain he could protect you."

"So I could do what…live with your family for the rest of my life? Where would I go? No one of my association would care to see me—and neither would anyone of yours. I wouldn't belong anywhere."

"Of course they'd accept you…" Images of Harry's distasteful expression flashed through her mind. "And in any case, you'd be with me."

"As nice as that sounds, Ginny, the reality is we're both too young to spend the entirety of our time together right now, or pretending we could do what we might if we were five years older. We can't live on our own, and until we can, I'll be bound to your family, and…_Potter_…and others like him. None of whom will accept me."

"But Draco, you can't just go back to your family because you think that they're more accepting of you! You'll be turned into—into—who _knows_ what! You'll be scarred for life! Would you really want that fate just because right now staying with me is uncomfortable for you? Draco, do you have _any idea_ of what you're proposing to give up?"

"OF COURSE I DO!" he yelled.

"Then why are you going?"

He turned away from her.

She grasped his arm, whirling him around. "You're giving up _me._ Do you care at all? Is that really what you want? Did none of last year—does this not matter to you anymore?"

"No…YES! Of course it does. I…just don't know. I don't know what I want anymore. I just…I just want it all to make sense again." He sank to the ground, his thick black cloak falling in folds around him. "I want everything to make sense again. I want my family to care for me again. I want you to love me…I want to love you back…I want..."

"You want everything," she said in exasperation, kneeling down and running a hand through his thick silver hair. "But…you can't have everything. Don't you see that? So you have to choose."

He looked up at her. "Choose."

Ginny felt a lump rise in her throat. "Choose."

"I can't…"

She steeled herself, and rose. "If you don't, then you already have."

"What?"

"If you don't make the decision yourself, then you already have. You've let your family choose for you."

"I haven't. I make my own decisions."

"No, you don't. You let others make them for you. Me, your Mother, your Father—even your Aunt. It is what _others_ do that dictates Draco Malfoy's actions, not his own free will."

He rose, his eyes narrowing. "That's not true. I thought you knew me better than that."

Ginny laughed sharply. "I guess not. Of course, I've spent the better part of a year falling in love with you, but apparently I know NOTHING about you."

"Ginny…"

"Well, for your information, I know a bit of something. I know there is a part of you that _wants_ to be like your father. I know you're proud of your family. I know you believe purebloods are superior.

"And most importantly, I know that you've been trying to find a way to balance all those feelings with your feelings for me—trying to understand my world without having to give up yours. And _I've_ tried to understand that, tried to make it work. But I think we both know why it doesn't."

She stood, and took a deep breath. "Because the truth is, you can't. You cannot _have_ _them_ _both_. You knew, back in the Hospital Wing when you promised you would try, that you wouldn't be able to—and that eventually you would have to choose.

"I know your family has been everything you are. It is your past—it is what made you who you are today. I cannot be your past—I can only be your future. I can live with everything that you are, Draco. I can live with your family, with your father and your mother—with what they were…even with what your aunt was. But I _cannot_ live with the future that lies before you if you choose them. I cannot live with Voldemort. I had to do it once…I _will not_ do it again!"

He flinched as she said this, his eyes wide.

"It has come down to this, Draco…it is either me or that…_that life_. Where does your heart lie? If you future is going to involve me in any way, it will have to change—today. If it doesn't, then, no matter how much I care for you, I cannot be with you. I won't allow Harry or anyone else I love to get hurt because you can't make up your mind."

"Anyone else you _love_?"

"I cannot—WILL NOT—abandon him, even if it means I abandon you. I'm not going to allow your family to choose for me. Because this isn't just your choice—it is mine as well. A choice between my heart and my soul. Better I have a broken heart than I lose my soul forever."

"So that's it then," he said slowly. "You get to keep everything, while I lose everything?"

"Do you really lose everything?" she asked seriously.

"Yes. Yes, Ginny, _yes_."

"And what is it you lose?" she continued vehemently. "A father who doesn't love you, just what you represent? A Mother who would sell you to the dark because it is more important to her than her only son?"

"Watch yourself," he hissed.

"I do not think so, Draco. I'm _tired_ of 'watching myself' when you're about. Your family is nothing more than a vessel of Voldemort, who brings death to everyone. If you want to be that, then I don't want _you_."

"Then you don't want me," he spat.

She narrowed her eyes, trying to keep her face as calm as she could. "You're right. I don't. Goodbye."

She reached for his hand. Touching him sent shivers up her spine. When she released him, the tiny Slytherin badge in his hand, she allowed herself to glance up at his face.

His expression was unreadable, but his hands were trembling.

_Every last bit of resolve…_

Harry's words echoed through her head, and suddenly, she felt extremely tired. "I'm sorry…I can't anymore. I can't fight for you anymore. I'm so tired of being lost in you that I can't find my way back to what I _know_ is right."

His gray eyes were locked on her face.

"You don't have to worry about me. My family, Harry…they will take care of me. He'll see to it that I'm safe. He'll protect me, so you don't have to be torn anymore."

_Every last bit of resolve…_

She turned from him. Mentioning Harry had been an attempt to hurt him, but to her surprise, she found she believed what she had said, and it brought the strength she needed to reach the gate, where she could leave him behind.

It took everything she had to reach the edge of town, where Harry's Firebolt was lying on the ground, still wrapped in her cloak.

She slid down next to it, one hand on the broomstick, and cried for what seemed an eternity.

--------------------------

Draco stared at his hands, his knees faltering for a moment. He slid down next to the stone gazebo, the shadow of the serpent falling across his face.

He stared down at the badge in his hand.

She had just abandoned him.

_For my sake, and for those I love, I won't interfere…_

"Do you love _me_?" he asked the badge softly.

_Harry will take care of me…He'll see I'm safe—_

He swallowed, trying to push the sound of her voice from his head, the look in her eyes from his mind.

He'd known this day would come. He'd known since the first time he'd realized he loved her that this day would come. But she had been wrong—and he had been wrong.

He hadn't had to choose.

She'd chosen for him.

_A choice between my heart and soul…_

All around him, the shadows of the trees in the courtyard were shifting, swaying with the thin night air. The lion loomed over him, tangled in the serpent, fighting with all its might to break free.

"Why are you fighting him?" Draco asked the statue softly. "What good does it do you to kill him?"

"No good," echoed a voice from the outskirts of the courtyard. "No good at all."

_Who is this mysterious voice coming to soothe (is it soothe?) Draco? OOTS 5 will be coming soon, though I can't guarantee you'll read it…as HBP might have been published by then! But enjoy this soft cliffy—cuz the next few chapters are going to have quite tormented cliffhangers. XD_


	5. Light Into Dark

_OOTS 5—Reading warning: You might not want to read this until after the glory of HBP, because it has a terribly evil cliffhanger and you really might not forgive me…_

"No good," echoed a voice from the outskirts of the courtyard. "No good at all."

Draco leapt to his feet, wand at the ready.

"The truth is, no matter how much they struggle, there will always be another serpent to replace the one that was lost—and their will always be another lion if this one is killed." Albus Dumbledore walked towards him, his blue eyes locked on the statue.

"This statue has an interesting history. It was constructed after the defeat of the Dark Wizard Grindelwald in 1945. The Muggles believed it was a commemoration of the Great War that had just been won. In truth, it was constructed by the wizards, to be a constant reminder that the war between those who follow the Dark Arts and those who defend against them would continue to rage, no matter how many battles were won by one side or the other. Because there will always be those who continue to believe in one side or the other. There will always be good and evil. The key to ending the battles lies in everyone's ability to understand one another. Unfortunately, such a task is not easily accomplished."

"That is in the nature of people, isn't it?" asked Draco, pulling to his feet.

"Yes, unfortunately, that is the hallmark of 'people.' But the beauty of 'people' is that they start as 'persons.' Or rather, _a _person. One soul, who is capable of making a choice for himself and himself alone, without any interference from beyond his own hearts. People can be witless masses, but a person can be an intelligent individual, who carries the weight of the world on his choices and actions."

Dumbledore came up beside him, his hands folded behind his back.

"What are you doing here, Professor?" mumbled Draco.

"I received word that someone might need a bit of looking to, though I'm not quite sure who that might be," he replied cordially. "And I so enjoy the night air in this part of the country that I wasn't able to resist the opportunity."

"Potter," Draco spat. "Well, he was _wrong_, though no one will believe me about that. No one here needs _your_ help."

"I quite believe you. Harry is very often wrong—more so than anyone imagines, anyhow. The difference between Harry and a great many others is that he tries to learn from his mistakes. If he makes a wrong choice, he tries to correct it in the future by making right ones."

"Well, it doesn't seem to happen much, as everyone in his presence continues to _die_…"

The Headmaster's eyes tightened for a moment. "That, unfortunately, is more my fault than his. I am afraid I have not protected Harry as I should have…and he has witnessed a great many things that someone so young should not have had to endure. Those were not his choices.

"What is laid before you, Mr. Malfoy, _is_ your choice. Like Harry, your role is indisputably important at this particular moment. Not just for yourself, or Miss Weasley, but for the whole of generations to come."

Draco raised his head. "What?"

"Do you know why—really know why—the battle last year at Hogwarts was won?"

"Because the Slytherins came up and bloody saved everyone, that's why."

"That's right. But who united them? Who drove them to fight _against_ what they'd been taught?"

Draco looked to the ground.

"That's correct. _You_ were the uniting force behind them. You are the one person in the whole of Slytherin House who can change the minds of the people around you for the better. They respect you because of who you are and who your family is; what's more, they are willing to follow you because they respect you as an individual.

"No one else could have motivated them to assist Harry and myself against the Dementors. Despite your 'betrayal' of them, they still believed in you. That is the power you possess, Mr. Malfoy. The power to change the minds and hearts of those that seem immovable. Harry cannot do that. No one else has that strength—save you."

"I can't do that. They chose to follow me because they didn't want to _die._ This is different."

"Really?" Dumbledore quirked an eyebrow. "How? Do you think they want to die now?"

"They have a choice now. They didn't have one then."

"They do?"

"YES!" Draco shouted, pulling to his feet. "They do! We all bloody do, and we all bloody want to go! We all bloody choose to go! And that's despite knowing that you, Ginny, and everyone else that hates us wishes we'd think differently!"

"Hates you? Why would anyone hate you?"

Draco opened his mouth to reply, but found he had no answer. It wasn't a question he'd ever considered someone would ask. Everyone hated the Slytherins, that was a given, and there was no questioning why.

"Do you sincerely believe that Hogwarts, myself, or anyone else is against Slytherin? Never have I considered Slytherin a lesser House than any of its counterparts, not even Gryffindor. As Headmaster, I am forbidden from favoring one House over another, and even if my post did not mandate it, I would never consider one House greater than another anyhow."

"What do you mean? Everyone knows Slytherin is considered, by most at Hogwarts, to be the 'worst' of the Houses."

"If Slytherin has garnered a doubtful reputation, it is not because others dislike it from the beginning. Slytherin's members create a reputation for it, the same as other Houses have students who create reputations for it. Most of the time, the reputations incorrectly represent the House, which is unfortunate, because there is a great deal more to all of the Houses than what is depicted by a few wayward students.

Draco stared at the ground.

"For example," said the Professor, looking at him calmly. "Would you have considered Cedric Diggory weak? I know you supported him during the Triwizarding Tournament."

"No. Diggory was naïve, but he was not weak."

"I didn't believe so either. And yet, being a Hufflepuff, proper rumour has it that he should have been weak and soft. Right?"

Draco said nothing.

"So you see the error in categorizing. Which is why it should never been done."

"Well then why is everyone always singing the praises of Gryffindor? And Potter? And why Slytherin is always targeted?"

"What people see often depends on what they've experienced. Though no one should judge Slytherin, the actions of its members will determine how it is viewed through the eyes of the other Houses. And because Slytherin House has a dominating aspect—namely ambition—in common with the driving nature of families like yours, I'm afraid that one and one does very often equal two.

"That does not mean, however, that the formula can't change. Salazar Slytherin had an intense dislike for muggleborns because he and his family were persecuted during the time in which he lived. Though we had protective spells and enchantments during that time, the hatred of the muggles was much more potent, and more than one wizard was hurt in their vain attempts to cleanse their lands of us. It was then, to prevent injury to both sides, that Slytherin, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw decided we should draw away from living in the muggle world, and establish our own world, just beyond their sight.

"Though the solution was a very peaceful one—one of which the entire wizarding world should be quite proud—it did not stop the deeply seated hatred for muggles that people who had been tormented, like Slytherin, felt. His denial of muggleborns into Hogwarts was born out of the fact that he hated and distrusted them, because they had pushed their superiority of situation on him his entire life.

"Somehow, over the course of time, that fear, born out of experience, morphed into a feeling of _superiority_. Wizards no longer feared or hated muggles because the muggles had a more powerful position than they—they hated muggles because they were more _inferior_ than wizards. When the muggles went through their dark times, it was a time of enlightenment for the wizarding community. The enlightment of the muggles a few centuries later was decades behind that of wizards. We knew things, could do things, much more quickly and with much more intelligence than the muggles could. What use had we of an automatic lighting device? We could light the world with our wands. What good would an automobile do us? We could apparate! We were superior in every form and fashion.

"But in the heart of the most intelligent of us, the fact that we remained hidden was a slap in the face—a harsh holdover from a time in which we ran in fear, lived in constant dread of the muggles whose swords could truly wound us. Some of us began to feel that we should establish our superiority over them. Our old magic, our powers, our creatures, our very beings—they were all demonstrations of how we deserved to live on the outside, and how muggles, like House Elves, deserved to serve us.

"But…" the Headmaster took a seat inside the gazebo. "They got it wrong. Wizards like Voldemort, and Grindelwald—they don't truly understand.

"In remaining hidden, we are not hiding from the muggles. We are protecting ourselves—our way of life. Not from fear of persecution, because, as they believe, we are beyond that. But rather from having the peace we live now from being disturbed.

"If the muggles knew of us, we would never be alone. Their scientists would study us, their journalists would follow us, their leaders would seek us out for advice. They are too powerful for us to destroy, but not powerful enough to protect themselves. Their entire world would be turned upside down. Theologies, histories, literatures—they would all have to be rewritten. Their world might very well descend into chaos. And with them, our world as well."

"Why? You just said we'd be safe from them."

"They couldn't harm us, no. Escaping them is as easy, right now at least, as apparating out of their jails, or prisons. But our livelihood is predicated upon the careful balance they have established in their daily lives. Like this gazebo," he gestured upwards. "The lion fights the snake, the snake fights the lion. If one wins, the other loses. We see this monument as a tribute to the end of Grindelwald. They see it as a tribute to the end of their Great War. If they were to learn any differently, it would no longer be something we could both enjoy. They would want to make it their own, not ours, and in an attempt to preserve their hold over it, it might very well be destroyed."

"But isn't it them the exact same as Slytherin? We're still running and hiding."

"Not really. We don't hide from their superiority. In a way, we protect ourselves from our _own_ superiority."

Draco bowed his shoulders. "It's still running. It is still hiding. They still control everything."

"Do they? Or do we let them think they do?"

"Huh?" Draco raised an eyebrow.

"How much of the balanced established do you think _doesn't_ have a part of the wizarding world involved? We are everywhere. In everything they do, in some small way or another. We are more integral in their world than we, or they, know. Hopefully, than they will ever know."

They sat, side by side, watching the glow bugs light up the nearby bushes.

"But…Headmaster…don't you ever wish you could walk down the street of London or anywhere else in your hat and robe, walk into a store, and not have muggles see you as odd?"

"I suppose it would be nice to go into a muggle barbers dressed as such. I always have such a time with magical hair snippers, they never get it quite right." His eyes twinkled. "But on the whole, no. I am quite content. If I wish to walk down the street in my robe and hat, I walk down Diagon Alley or the main thoroughfare of Hogsmeade. If I wish to go anywhere in the muggle world, I apparate there.

"Are you not content with what you have, Mr. Malfoy? Have you ever really wished to be a part of their world so badly you'd see them all destroyed to get there? What in your life do you lack?"

Draco stared at the glowworms, blinking back and forth. "I don't know. I just know it's wrong…"

"To let them think they're alone and superior."

"Yes."

"That is not any choice of yours, Mr. Malfoy. That is a lesson taught you by your parents, who were in turn taught that by their parents, who were taught that by their parents. But it has not affected their livelihood. Your parents have been denied nothing by the existence of muggles, save their own sense of pride—a pride they don't clearly understand. It is the lingering ghost of a shadow in the past, one that should long ago have given way to a much more brilliant truth.

"This truth, people like Harry can understand, because they have existed in both worlds—and they see the true difference."

"The true difference."

"Allow me to put it this way—do you think that for all Harry is having to experience in the wizarding world, that he would consider going back to living the life of a muggle?"

Draco sat back, his brow furrowed. "I…"

"Or Ms. Granger? Or Dean Thomas? Or anyone of a number of Hogwarts students who grew up completely unaware of the wizarding world? Do you think they see you as inferior? Or do they envy you the eleven years you spent in this wondrous place before they knew of it?"

"I suppose…I suppose the latter."

"You suppose correctly," said the Headmaster with a gentle grin. "Perhaps that should be what you remember when the time comes for you to make some very important choices. That you've been denied nothing—that you already have everything you could possibly want, and more than what a majority of people, muggles or otherwise, could ever dream of having. And if you do anything to change that, you are losing much more than you know." He stood. "I am afraid I must go. I believe someone has come looking for you."

Ahead, near the front of the courtyard, Tenny had come into view, her ears drawn back, looking nervously around. Draco stood and moved to the front of the gazebo, signaling her.

"Headmaster, I…"

He turned back to the center of the gazebo.

It was empty.

--------------------------

Ginny set down softly atop The Burrow. There was no activity inside the house, meaning Harry had been as good as his word. She seated herself on the Firebolt once more, and descended to the ground near the front porch.

"How did it go?"

Ginny nearly leapt out of her skin, dropping the Firebolt with a thud. Harry emerged from the dark porch onto the dirt path, picking up the broomstick and carefully wiping it off.

_Boys and their broomsticks…_

"Harry, what are you doing out here?" she whispered.

"Waiting for you, what else? You Mum and the rest have gone to bed—she wouldn't have except I promised I'd wait up for you. They've been asleep a while now, except for Ron, I think, I didn't hear him snoring."

"He probably suspects what I was up to."

"I think he knows what you were up to."

He stared at her questioningly, twisting the broomstick in his hands. "So…you didn't answer my question…how did it go?"

"I'm never going to see him again," she said fiercely.

"I take that it didn't go well?"

She slapped him on the shoulder.

"Ouch! Sorry, I don't mean to joke, it's just…" he didn't bother to finish, just swung his broomstick on his shoulder and took her cloak from her hands. "Come'n. Let's get some tea."

She sniffled, following him inside.

A few moments later she was seated at the kitchen table, a hot mug of tea in her hand. Harry sat next to her, swirling his around in his cup.

"Do you want to talk about anything?"

"Not really," she replied, giving him a wan smile. "Thanks for asking, though."

"Ginny, is that you?" asked a sleepy voice. Hermione shuffled into the kitchen swaddled in a large pink nightrobe, star and moon pyjamas and fuzzy slippers. "Where have you been?"

Harry looked to her questioningly, but Ginny shook her head. Everyone would know soon enough.

"I went to see Draco."

"WHAT?" Hermione was suddenly wide awake. "Where?"

"Near the Manor."

"But that's…did you Floo there? We didn't…"

"No, I flew."

"Flooed?

"No…FLEW. Broomstick. Flew."

"FLEW?"

"Don't worry, I used the Firebolt, so it didn't take _that_ long."

Hermione's eyes searched between them, lost between wanting to comfort Ginny and scolding Harry for allowing her to go. She finally poured herself some tea out of the pot, and took a seat next to Harry.

"So what happened?"

"I don't really want to talk about it."

"Ginny."

"Leave her alone, Hermione," said Harry softly.

"Harry…" Hermione reached a hand over and placed it on Ginny's arm. "I know you don't want to, but I think it's best. Get it all out now, while its fresh."

Ginny sniffled. "I…I told him I didn't want to see him anymore."

"Why?"

"Because…because he didn't want _me. _He didn't want my family, or you, or anybody I care about. He just wanted his stupid family and that stupid ceremony. He doesn't even realize how much it will change him! Not just him becoming…becoming…" she swallowed. "But the fact that after it takes place, there is NO GOING BACK. HE'S SUCH A PRAT!"

She slammed her tea onto the table, cracking the mug and splattering tea everywhere. Hermione and Harry pulled back, shaking droplets of hot liquid from their hands.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Ginny cried, pulling a rag from the back of one of the chairs, wiping it at the mess, and knocking over Harry's cup in the process.

Hermione grasped a dishtowel from the sink. "Ginny, its alright."

"I'm so sorry…" she laid her head down atop her arms. "I'm…" she burst into tears.

Harry glanced at Hermione awkwardly. "Ginny…"

"How can I hate him so much? I care about him so much—and he doesn't care about me at all."

"That...that's not true," said a voice from the staircase. "I think he loves you very much."

"What?" sniffled Ginny, raising her head.

Ron walked into the kitchen, his hair sticking up from the back of his head. He didn't appear sleepy. "I said I think he loves you very much."

Ginny stared at him. "Why are _you_ saying that?"

"Because it's the truth," he said sharply, trying not to look at Harry and Hermione, who were staring at him with open-mouthed expressions. "I saw how much he cared about you. He wouldn't have gone through the trouble of helping me out if he didn't."

She wiped at her eyes. "But even so, he's not willing to let go of everything. He's still just Malfoy."

"You're right, he is," said Ron, seating himself next to her and wrapping a long arm about her. His pyjamas were striped and too short for him. "You've done everything you could to let him see that. I don't think it will do you any good anymore to pound it into his head. But maybe…perhaps you just shouldn't let him forget you. Write him letters—let him know that you still care. Let him know you'll be waiting for him. Don't let him forget, not even for a moment, that you are there for him. Maybe…just maybe, if you constantly remind him, he won't forget. And maybe in the end he'll change his mind."

"That's a lot of maybes, Ron."

"They're better than nothings, right?" he said. "Just don't give up, okay Gin? Nobody, not Harry or me or Hermione, want you to. I think its brilliant what you're doing—I think it's brilliant what you've already done. I mean, who would have thought a Malfoy could come this far?"

She smiled. "Thanks, Ron."

He hugged her. "Don't worry about it. Try and get some sleep tonight, and we'll think about what we can do tomorrow."

She hugged him once more, the slipped away from the table and up to her room.

"Fat lot of good that's going to do," muttered Ron, laying his chin on his hand. "Malfoy's a bloody fool, that's all I have to say…what?"

Harry and Hermione both wore wide grins.

"Oh, nothing. It's just that, sometimes, Ron, you really do surprise me," said Hermione, her cheeks pink.

"What's that supposed to me?"

"It means," said Harry with a mischievous grin, "that most of the time you don't."

----------------------------

Draco walked wearily into the Manor, holding to Tenny's hand. She'd offered to apparate them into his room, but he hadn't wanted to get there so quickly—his Mother might be waiting for him, or worse.

So the little House Elf had taken his hand in hers anyhow, and walked him all the way back to the Manor. He hadn't pulled away, in part because he was too weary to argue, and in part because in truth, she was extremely comforting. Thankfully, she'd sensed that silence was the best way to answer his melancholy mood.

He walked in, finally letting go of her hand, and trudged towards the stairs.

"Draco."

He sighed deeply. His mother came out into the foyer, her neat heels snapping on the parquet floor. "Draco, I need to speak with you."

"Mother, this really isn'ta good time."

"I refuse to take no for an answer. We need to talk."

"_REALLY _not a good time."

"Draco Darien Padraig Malfoy, you come back here right this instant and speak with me."

He sighed. "Mother, please…I really don't want to talk right now."

"We need to, Draco," his mother's voice softened. "Please. I want you to understand."

"I think I understand well enough," he said from his position on the third step. "I'm sacrificing everything for the sake of the Dark Lord—I am honored to do so because my family is honored to do so. And for it, Ginny hates me and will never speak to me again. In truth, I really do have nothing to lose. So you don't need to worry about my backing away from the ceremony, or trying to escape. I promise you, I won't."

Narcissa raised an eyebrow. "You told Ginny?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "Of course I told Ginny. She has a right to know. At which point she promptly told me I could never be a part of her life again."

His Mother was silent for a moment. He took that as a dismissal and began climbing up the stairs.

"You fool."

When he turned back, she was glaring at him, her eyes narrowed. "Do you realize what you've done?"

"_What_?"

"You've just informed Dumbledore about our plans. You've just let him know that we have one week left before our ceremony. By telling Ginny, you've told the Order of the Phoenix everything."

For the first time that day, Draco felt angry. _I just lost the one person I love the most, and all she can think about is the stupid Ceremony?_

Really, really angry.

"AND SO BLOODY WHAT!" he shouted, tossing his cloak down at her. "IS THE LORD OF DARKNESS SO AFRAID OF DUMBLEDORE THAT HE HAS TO WALK IN SECRET ALL THE TIME? IS HE SO PETRIFIED DUMBLEDORE MIGHT FIND HIM THAT HE SLITHERS ABOUT IN THE SHADOWS, USING SIMPLE-MINDED CHILDREN AS HIS VEHICLES OF POWER?"

He strode down the steps, flinging his arms about. "DON'T YOU CALL ME A FOOL AND ACT AS THOUGH I'M AN INSIGNIFICANT PART OF THIS! YOU NEED ME TO CONVINCE _THEM_ TO FOLLOW YOU AND YOUR DEATH EATERS! YOU KNOW THE OTHER SLYTHERINS WILL DO WHAT I ASK THEM TO! YOU _NEED_ ME!"

Narcissa stared at him, her eyes wide.

He snarled at her. "I'm going to bed."

"You're not as significant as you think," said his Mother tensely.

"Oh please," he said. "I know how important I am—and more importantly, DUMBLEDORE knows how important I am."

"What do you mean?"

"He's already come to me." He grinned spitefully at her surprised reaction. "That's right. Dumbledore found _me_. He wanted me to…well, how to put this…he wanted me to basically give up everything you have planned for me…and run right to the Order of the Phoenix, where he would protect me—from _you_."

"What did you tell him, _son_?"

Draco unclenched his fists. "What do you think I told him, Mother?"

"I think you told him to leave you alone," she said quietly.

"And you'd be right, in one way or another," he replied.

"Draco…" his mother reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I know you didn't mean to tell Ginny to warn her. I know you love her, and you wanted her to know. But you must be careful. Everything we have been planning—all that we have suffered—it is going to be rectified very soon. You are an important part of that.

"But more so than your being involved—than your being the first chosen—is the reason why. You ARE a representative for others. But you've been brought up to be so, because your father and I agreed that you would have a better life than we ever could.

"Draco, you are the first of your family to be blessed with no one to question your ways. In my family, and your father's, we had doubters—people who didn't believe that what we were fighting for was right. And they constantly influenced us, tried to change our minds.

"We brought you up without that. I knew you would encounter it at Hogwarts—your father wanted to send you to Durmstrang because you would not be around anyone who would dissuade you—but I knew that you had to encounter dissention, because we needed to be sure that you were as strong in your beliefs as we were. Having students like Potter question your motives would only strengthen your faith, because it wasn't your family questioning, it was your family being questioned. And you have proven faithful in more than one way.

"But now, just at the time when I need you to be strongest, you are growing weaker in your beliefs. Forces beyond my control are taking you away from me. And I can do nothing, nothing at all, to bring you back, because I can't control them."

She lifted his chin. "I know I have no control over your heart. And that terrifies me. If you defy the Dark Lord, Draco, he will strike you down more quickly than you can imagine. And he will not stop with you. He will destroy the entirety of your family—and when he finds out why you have betrayed him, he will destroy that reason too. He will kill her, Draco, and her entire family. Dumbledore might protect Potter, but he can't protect them all."

"I know that, Mother. I know." He bowed his head. "I know. I just wish…"

"What?"

"Nothing. It doesn't matter now. You do not have to worry with me, Mother. I know what I must do. And I will be there to take my place amongst the Death Eaters, as their First." He turned from her, trudging up the stairs. "You will never hear from Ginny again. She is too stubborn to chase after me unless I give her a reason to, and I can promise that will not happen." He swooped his cloak off the ground, and slowly began to climb the stairs, his hair draping across his eyes.

His mother watched him climb, her arms crossed.

"My dear boy," she said softly. "I wish I could be certain. And for the test you must pass, you have to be certain."

----------------------------

Ginny put down her broom, brushing the dust from her hair. Another hour of Quidditch practice—which Ron kept insisting she do—had made the time go by faster, but it hadn't changed anything. She thought about Draco more than ever.

_Two days. The 'ceremony' is in two days._

She walked into the Burrow, waving to Nymphadora Tonks, who was sporting a beautiful cascade of blond hair, a pair of faded denims, and a slightly too-tight "Count Olaf—Master of Disguise" T-shirt.

"Good work up there, Gin," she said, popping her bubble gum. "Need to work a bit on your underhands—it helps if you put a little more force from the opposite side of where you're throwing."

"Thanks, Tonks," Ginny swung open the door, picking up an apple from the nearby plate and walking into the living room.

Harry sat in front of the fire, talking calmly to a head poking out of the flames. "Hi, Professor Lupin," she said.

"Hello, Ginny," the professor replied, and turned back to Harry.

Since her revelation about Draco, Professor Dumbledore had made The Burrow ground zero for preparations in the search for the location of the Ceremony. Not only did they have three members of the Order guarding them at all times—to protect them should Draco inform his Mum he'd told Ginny about the ceremony, which Ginny knew he would—they also were going back and forth relaying messages to the Weasleys, in particular Bill and Charlie, who'd immediately returned when they'd heard what the Death Eaters were planning.

Since the Burrow was jumping with activity, Professor Dumbledore had had little choice but to allow Harry, Ron and Hermione to learn of what they were planning. But he'd made them promise they wouldn't be involved in the ceremony, no matter what happened. Ginny didn't think it was a promise Harry could keep—but she had already assured them that _she_ wouldn't be doing anything to stop it. Draco had chosen—and no matter how much Ron had encouraged her to try and find a way to contact him, she'd refused.

_Draco has to make the first move, he knows this. _

In two days time, he'd be lost to her forever.

She felt a lump rise in her throat.

"…might be able to help, but I'm not certain." Professor Lupin was talking rapidly, looking slightly vexed. "I've never attempted to control myself while on the Wolfsbane potion and yet attacking at the same time. I'm not certain I can do it."

"Does Professor Dumbledore think you can?" asked Harry.

"Yes…both he and Professor Snape are convinced I can. But as they aren't werewolves, I'll stick to my instincts first.

"Anyhow," he continued, "Professor Dumbledore says Bill and Charlie are to meet him at sunset tomorrow night. They'll begin the preparations from there."

"Do they know where to look?"

"There are a few locations—Professor Dumbledore is scouting around. We think we have a fairly good idea, though—there is a spot in the north that has been generating quite a bit of activity."

Harry nodded. "Thanks for the update, Professor. I'll make sure Bill and Charlie know."

"Thank you, Harry," said the professor, and disappeared.

"Is he going to do it?" Ginny asked.

Harry turned to her. "He's considering it, but he's unsure. How was Quidditch practice?"

She rolled her eyes. "The same Quidditch practice Ron has been insisting I do for the past three days."

Harry smiled gently. "Are you feeling better today?"

She glanced downwards. "A little bit. But…it's still…you know."

"Right."

"Post!" cried Hermione's voice from outside. "You've got a letter!"

"Really!" Ginny's heart began to beat faster. "I've…"

"Harry…" Hermione threw open the door, skidding to a halt when she saw Ginny's excited face. "Oh…Ginny. I'm sorry. This came by regular post. It's for Harry. From your Aunt," she said, handing it to him.

"What?"

"That is a bit odd, isn't it?"

Ginny settled back into her armchair, twirling the apple in her hands.

"Ginny, I'm sorry, I wouldn't have…"

"'S alright," she said wanly. "''S not like I was expecting anything from him anyway." She pulled herself up, and marched up the stairs, trying not to sniffle too much.

--------------------------

"Horrid. Absolutely horrid," said Hermione. "I can't believe he hasn't even tried to contact her."

"Well, she did sorta break up with him," said Harry, his eyes scanning the letter.

"Doesn't matter!" sniffed Hermione. "He knows he's in the wrong, he should have contacted her anyhow."

"I think his knowing he's in the wrong is the _problem_."

Hermione crossed her arms, puffing up slightly. "Well…"

"They want to know if I'm alright," said Harry in wonderment, ignoring her expression. He flipped the letter over. "She actually wants to know if I'm alright. No requests, or anything. How odd."

"Well," Hermione said, uncrossing her arms, "this is the longest you've been away from them."

"I never thought being away from them would mean they would miss me," he said incredulously.

Hermione shrugged. "People are funny that way. They can think one way about a person, treat them horribly, make them live in cupboards, and yet, in the back of their minds, they love them more than anything. I'm sure you Aunt feels the same way about you."

"Something like that," Harry said with a smirk.

"Do you think we should go check on her? Ginny, I mean," she said quickly, taking in his uncertain expression.

He shook his head. "No. I think she's had enough comfort force fed her, between you Mother, Tonks, and Ron. Probably best if we leave her alone."

--------------------

Ginny stretched her fingers out the window, allowing Pig to nip at them as he hovered near the vines covering the side of the house. Evening had set, the nighttime sky clear of rain clouds, letting the stars sparkle through.

She'd skipped dinner, despite Ron, then Charlie's, urging. She just didn't want to bother, with Moody and Tonks and Fred and George at the table, along with everyone else. Her mother had then brought her a plate, which remained untouched near her door.

She wished Draco would write. She wished she could see him again.

But she couldn't. If she did, it would mean she was giving in to him. It would mean she was giving up everything she believed, to let him follow through with what he believed. It would mean giving up on what was right.

And she couldn't do that. No matter how much she loved him.

But…perhaps…at least she could tell him that…at least…

She moved off her seat, thumbing through her parchment quickly, trying to find an empty roll. She hurried, lest her better judgment set in.

She yanked out her quill, dipping it haphazardly in her ink bottle—a bright red, it spilled over the side of the parchment, staining it—and scribbled a few words in the corner. Sealing it up with a piece of wax, she reached out for Pig, and tied it to his leg.

"Quickly, quickly," she said breathlessly, releasing him. "Take this to Malfoy Manor. Hurry."

She let him go into the night, watching as he disappeared by the light of the nearly full moon. It was too late to stop him now.

She smiled.

---------------------------

Tenny tapped softly on the door to the Young Master's suits, balancing a platter upon her arm. She'd seen the Young Master go through many things, but nothing worried her more than seeing him as he was.

The Mistress had ordered she bring him dinner every night—he'd refused to leave his rooms—and though she'd obeyed, every evening, he ate very little of what she brought. He refused to even look at her, just sat at his desk, his chin on his hands, staring down at a piece of paper he'd carefully smoothed out.

Tenny was certain it had to do with the Miss Weezy, though she couldn't be certain. But the Miss Weezy was very good about sending the Young Master letters and parchments and such, but nothing had come to the Manor since that night, when Young Master had taken her hand and walked with her back to the Manor, like he used to when he was just a little boy.

When he used to treat her like family.

Tenny had lived with five generations of Malfoys. Master Lucius had been the worst of them, a terrible little boy who had little respect for his elders, especially House Elves, and he'd started that when he was two. Tenny had thought the elegance of the pretty Miss Black would change him, but she was as bad as he, though not in a violent way. She respected her family the way he respected his, and that had not been good for House Elves.

Tenny had expected the last generation, the Young Master Draco, to be like his parents, and then even worse, as they had all been before him. But Master Draco was a quiet boy, not particularly nasty save for what his father had taught him. He acted superiorly, but not until someone told him to. Tenny was certain he had loved her as a nursemaid, until his father took him aside and told him of the position House Elves had with the family. After that, Master Draco had tried everything he could to be particularly cruel, especially to Tenny.

And the House Elves had not been helped out with the acts committed by that…that _Dobby._

_Bad Dobby, making life badder for all House Elves everywhere. Dobby is getting his due soon, Tenny thinks._

But she really didn't know. Dobby was under the wing of the great Harry Potter, who had improved life for all. Perhaps he would survive.

Young Master wasn't fairing well, though. For all his nastiness, there was a part of Master Draco that refused to take any action beyond cruel words and slightly harsh actions. He'd never really hurt anyone—his slaps were light as feathers, and most of the time the raised hand was a threat—and the few things that had gone wrong were intended as pranks.

When he'd gone to school, he had come back with a nastier attitude than most, and Tenny learned he acquired Harry Potter as an enemy. And though Master Draco spoke of Potter as being second best, the House Elves knew that Harry Potter was getting the better of Master Draco. Which is where Dobby came up with his foolish notions…

Tenny shook her head. Master Draco had been pushing to the edge of his personality—just starting to turn like Master Lucius—when the Miss Weezy had appeared in his room, looking extremely pretty with her long red hair, and very different from the type of girls any of the other young Malfoys had brought home. She was…_nice._ She was different.

Tenny had been happy.

_Miss Weezy makes things better for Young Master. _

The night in the courtyard, Master Draco had seemed so defeated. And he hadn't changed at all since he returned, especially since he had yelled at the Mistress. Tenny had never heard the Young Master speak to the Mistress in that manner. Nothing could have made him do that…except…

He'd defended against the Mistress Bella in the same way—to protect the Young Miss.

"Teneesia, what are you doing outside the Young Master's room? Didn't I instruct you to bring him his dinner?"

Tenny jumped. The Mistress was coming down the hall, looking as elegant as she always did. At her heels was the lame one, Kreacher, who nodded at her. Tenny raised her nose at him.

_He is thinking his is being so bold by telling of all the doings of the Mister Potter. Tenny is thinking he gets HIS end soon too._

"I is just arriving with his platter, Mistress, I go soon."

"That is fine," the Mistress said harshly. "When he goes in…give him this." She dropped a letter atop the bowl of soup. It was scrawled with red lettering, and addressed 'Draco.'

"I believe it is from Miss Weasley, so make sure he gets it."

Tenny nodded, one eyebrow rising slightly. She had been under the impression the Mistress disliked the Young Miss Weezy.

"Such a shame," continued the Mistress, her expression softening. "The young Miss Weasley will not be able to be with Draco when he needs her most."

"Mistress does not mean the red-head traitors, who disgraced the home of my beloved Mistress, who spat upon her name, who trod in her…"

"Regardless, Kreacher," said the Mistress, looking slightly displeased, "Despite their disrespect of your Mistress, the Miss Weasley has been particularly kind to Draco, and he cares for her. She should be there for him in his time of need."

"Why…why is the Young Miss not to be there?" asked Tenny timidly, lowering her head lest the Mistress strike her ears.

To her surprise, the Mistress merely crossed her arms. "Because Draco refuses to tell her where she needs to go. If only there was a way to inform her. He will be at a special ceremony two days from now, the night of the full moon. At the graveyard of our Dark Lord, in Little Hangleton. If she were there, it would be a great comfort to him."

Tenny stared down at the note on top of the soup bowl. "Tenny will make sure he gets this," she said softly.

She bowed to the Mistress, and apparated inside the room.

-------------------------

Narcissa watched the tiny, ancient House Elf disappear into Draco's suite. She'd had a sort of muted respect for Teenesia, who always seemed to want the best for the Malfoy boys, despite undergoing years of their abuse. Even Lucius she treated with a respect tempered with patience, while the other House Elves ran in fear from him. And he, in a way, treated her much better than the other House Elves.

_The consequence of changing diapers for the darkest of the Dark Lord's servants, I suppose. She can't live _entirely_ in fear of them when you've powdered their bottoms._

In any case, Teenesia's kind heart was going to come in very handy.

Kreacher stared at the door from behind her legs, looking displaced, but sentient. He was by far their greatest asset.

"Come, Kreacher. We have plans to make."

"Kreacher does not see the…"

"If you want those disgraceful excuses for purebloods to pay for tarnishing your Mistress's House, then you'll do exactly as I say, without question. The abolition of one evil is greater than the dissuading of a lesser one, right?"

"Mistress does, Kreacher obeys the noble House."

"Then come." She started off down the hall. Her first call was going to be to a particular department of the Ministry of Magic.

If Draco acted as she thought he might, the appearance of Ginny at the ceremony was going to come in very handy.

--------------------

Draco sat at his desk, staring down at the picture of Ginny, who'd gotten so tired of waving at him that she was now slumped off the side, slumbering. Next to the photograph were a few of Ginny's letters, written in better times, when they didn't have much to worry on.

There had been nothing from her—not that he'd expected anything, after all, Ginny was incredibly stubborn, that was one of her strongest qualities, though not necessarily one of her best ones. But he hoped she would.

Tenny apparated beside him, caring the same tray of food she'd brought the last time.

"Go away. I'm not hungry," he said sharply.

"M-Master, there is a letter being sent to you."

He whirled from the desk, nearly knocking her over, tray, hot soup and all as she held up the thin piece of parchment for him.

He ripped it eagerly open. It was half stained in red. For a moment he was dazed, panicky, thinking she'd done something to hurt herself. He realized she'd just written in red ink, and his heart settled a bit.

_I love you. I always will._

It was all she had written. She hadn't even signed it. But he knew Ginny's handwriting well enough to know that it was from her.

He unfolded the parchment, spreading it out where it had as few folds as possible, and ran his fingers over the hurriedly scratched lettering.

"Is it…from the Miss Weezy?"

He nearly jumped out of his seat. Tenny was shoving his tray on a nearby nightstand, standing on her tiptoes to reach the high tabletop.

"Wh—what are you still doing in here, Tenny?"

"Tenny is just wondering on the Young Miss…"

"You don't need to worry on the Young Miss anymore, Tenny. She won't be coming around here."

"But the letter…"

"Is from her, yes. But this the last. She won't write anymore," he sat back, his fingers tearing at the edges slightly. "Not to the _real_ me."

"Because of the Inheritance ceremony?"

He whirled around, his eyes wide. "What do you…"

"Tenny is knowing, as all the House Elves are knowing," she said timidly.

He settled back a bit. "Whatever you know, Tenny, forget it. It is for your own good.

"And whatever comes out of it, remember that I do respect you, whatever I might show." He rose from his chair. "Now do not disturb me anymore, I have to prepare. I'll be in my study. Leave my food for tomorrow on the stand. I don't want to be bothered."

He gathered the papers from his desk, including the picture, and retreated to his library, where he curled in his armchair, burying his head and trying to forget anything but the last words Ginny had written to him.

------------------------

Tenny watched as he entered his library, shutting the doors with a bang.

If the ceremony was anything like the last one, it was no wonder he felt like not eating. Being asked to take over as Master of Malfoy Manor would be a great responsibility for someone so young. But with Master Lucius in Azkaban, someone would have to run the Manor.

Tenny had lived through five inheritance ceremonies. It was a beautiful thing, to watch as the title of the Manor was passed down from father to son. It was the only type of ceremony she could think of that he would possibly be participating in.

Not that Master Lucius would be there, but the Mistress could do it.

_It is being held in this "Hangleton" rather than in the Manor courtyard, but it must be so to prevent others from disturbing._

He was even worried about what his new status might do to his relationship with the Elves. He was being considerate, worrying about his becoming Master.

_But his is acting depressing—because he is missing Miss Weezy. And this ceremony that all are speaking of is important. She is young to be there—he is being afraid that she will not be welcome. He is being asked to take his father's place. If Miss Weezy is being with him always, she is needing to be there. She will be important, standing by his side, as Mistress was standing by Master Lucius._

Tenny exited the suite, a new determination rising up in her. No one should separate those who deserved to be together.

She couldn't write well, but she could write enough.

----------------------------

_One more day…_

Ginny swung about the Bludger bat, slamming into another of Bill's old shoes. It was sent barreling off, nearly clipping Charlie in the head.

"Watch it, Gin," he cried, zooming past her. "I still need that!"

"Sorry!"

She'd come out for one more day of Quidditch practice on the condition that she could take the position of Beater. Already, she'd knocked Fred (or was it George?) off his broomstick twice, broken Harry's glasses four times, and torn clean through the makeshift goalpost (Mum's old washtub).

In any case, the action was cathartic. Each time she hit the Bludger, she imagined it was Draco's head.

Except for the few times she envisioned it was Tom Riddle's head. That was when she'd broken Ron's nose.

_I'm not going to waste anymore tears on him._ _None_!

Not one reply back! Not an "I love you too" even! And she'd gone so far as to write him!

"Stupid Malfoy," she hissed, slamming the Bludger and taking the end off George's (or was it Fred's?) broomstick.

"WATCH IT!" the twins chirped, as Hermione did a momentum slowing charm to lower the broken broomstick softly to the ground.

"GINNY!" cried her Mum. Ginny rolled her eyes. All she needed at the moment was to be locked in her room for an afternoon, alone with her thoughts.

But to her surprise, her mother didn't scold her—just handed her a note.

"This just came for you—owl post."

Ginny stared at the handwriting.

_For the Yung Mis_

"Who's it from?"

Her mother shrugged. "It isn't from Mister Malfoy, unless he's been fooling us all this time."

Ginny tore it open. The note was messily scrawled and difficult to read.

_Mis Yung Wezy,_

_Teny is asking yu to met her ot bi the ston rum wher yu is meting Master Draco mani nites ago. Plez cum, it is to helping Master Draco wit his cerimoni. Plez cum. To-nite._

_Teneesia _

Ginny shook her head, squinting to decipher the letter. "It's from Teneesia. Draco's House Elf."

"Why would she write you, and not Mister Malfoy?"

"I don't know. She might be speaking for him. Or perhaps she wants to tell me something?"

"Does she say what?"

"No…I think…I think she's asking me to meet her in person, in St. Ettington."

"Absolutely _not_."

"But MUM!"

"NO, Ginevra, and that is final!"

"What if this is important? What if Draco is running away, and she couldn't say anything because she didn't want to reveal it in case someone should intercept the letter?"

"Mrs. Malfoy would have to read House Elf speak, and I very highly doubt that."

"MUMMMMM! PLEASE!"

"ABSOLUTELY NOT!"

"Absolutely not what?" asked Ron, coming in through the kitchen door. "We could hear you all the way out on the pitch."

"Mum won't let me go meet Teenesia!"

"Who?"

"Y'know…the Malfoy's House Elf."

"The old one?"

"Yes! She sent me a note." She handed the parchment over to Ron, who studied it for a moment, turned it over, and studied it some more.

"Is it written in Elvish?"

"NO!" She grabbed the note and turned it right side up again. "Here, it says 'Tenny is asking you to meet her out by the stone room where you is meeting Master Draco many nights ago.' See!"

Ron gave her a perplexed expression. If you say so. I don't read Elvish."

Ginny huffed, crossing her arms. "Point IS, I want to go and meet her. Who knows what she might have to say!"

"NO, GINNY! Professor Dumbledore said it would be safer if we stay here—and I am not allowing you to fly alone, by yourself, to a place just a walk away from Malfoy Manor!"

"What if I went with her?" asked Ron.

"WHAT?" said Mrs. Weasley and Ginny in unison.

Ron backed off for a minute, raising his hands. "I mean, what if I escorted her down there? We could take the Floo…you know, rather than fly…we'd be back in a cinch. I'll keep a lookout for anything dangerous."

Mrs. Weasley glanced apprehensively at them. Ginny looked down at the floor, crossing her arms behind her back, trying to appear innocent.

"Don't worry, Mum. I'm a prefect, I've had lots of training and such. I'll make sure Ginny is safe and back here in no time."

"Well…if you promise you'll be gone and back in one half an hour."

"Promise."

"Very well. You can go tonight."

Ginny squealed, leaping at her brother. "THANK YOU RON!"

He pulled himself away from her suffocating embrace, and patted her softly atop the head. " 'S alright, Gin. You're welcome."

----------------

"Are you sure about this?" Harry asked one more time, as Ron stuffed his wand into his robe. "Sure you don't want me to go? Or Hermione?" he added quickly, seeing Ron's vexed expression.

"Positive. It won't take long for Ginny to meet with the House Elf. We'll find out what she wants, and go."

"Where are you Flooing to?" asked Hermione.

"A confectioner's shop. There's an outdoor oven that's always lit, but far enough away not to disturb the bakers. Professor Dumbledore says he uses it all the time."

"What _did_ Dumbledore have to say about this?"

Ron shrugged. "Not much—just warned Ginny to be careful."

Ginny came bounding down the steps, her cheeks flushed. "Are we ready?"

"We're ready."

"If you want, mate, you can take my Invisibility Cloak…just in case."

"Nah," Ron said with a smile. "We'll be alright, I promise."

"Take care, then."

"Be careful, Ron," said Hermione. "And you too, Ginny."

Ginny grinned. "I will." She grabbed Ron's arm, dragging him into the fireplace. He reached into the bucket of powder.

"Swithie's, St. Ettington," he pronounced clearly, placing his left arm about his sister.

A swirl of green flame, and they were gone.

Harry studied the empty fireplace for a moment. "I hope Ginny's not expecting too much."

"Of course she is," said Hermione sadly.

---------------------------

Ron stumbled from the fireplace, coughing, and stepped forward—promptly banging his head on the low brick ceiling of the oven.

"Come on, Ron!" whispered Ginny, tearing through the confectioner's yard towards the center of the village.

"Ginny…Gin…wait!" he hissed back, glancing around. The town seemed quiet enough—but he felt conspicuous, even so. The offer of Harry's Invisibility Cloak seemed pretty good right now.

"Ginny!" he strode after her, rubbing his throbbing head, where a knot was already forming. "Fantastic."

Ginny was way ahead of him, darting towards a knoll on a small rise in the center of town. A magnificent gazebo rose above it, dominated by the statue of a serpent and a lion, engaging in battle.

"Fitting," he muttered, following her slowly. "I think that about sums up this entire evening in one nice, stony swoop."

-------------------------

Ginny rushed forward, heading towards the gazebo where she'd last seen Draco. After Tenny's note, she wasn't sure what to expect. Her greatest hope was to see Draco there, packed and ready to leave with her for the Burrow.

Not that she would expect that at all.

But even just seeing him waiting for her, to tell her goodbye…that would be enough.

There was no one at the gazebo when she arrived.

She leaned back against a column, catching her breath. Ron was in the far distance, walking slowly towards the knoll.

"Miss Weezy," said a soft voice.

Ginny nearly jumped out of her skin. "Tenny!"

The little House Elf emerged from the shadows. "Tenny is thanking Miss Weezy for coming. Tenny is needing to tell Miss Weezy something important about Master Draco."

"What," panted Ginny. "What do you need to say?"

"Miss Weezy—Master Draco…Master Draco is needing you at the ceremony tomorrow night. He is needing you by his side."

"WHAT?"

Tenny flinched. "Please Miss…Tenny is knowing this is strange…not to be being seen, but just there, for support. Master Draco is needing your support, even though this ceremony is being filled with people who might hate the Miss Weezy."

Ginny shook her head. "Tenny, I can't. You must know this."

"Tenny is knowing this is difficult…but she is asking Miss Weezy to please come. Please. If you is caring for Master Draco, please come."

"Tenny, I don't…I don't even know where the ceremony is."

"To be protecting the honor of Master Lucius, the ceremony is being at a place called 'Little Hangleton', Miss Weezy. Tomorrow night, at the full moon. Tenny is not knowing where this is, but Tenny knows Miss Weezy is smart and strong and can be figuring it out."

"Tenny," Ginny bent down. "I…I will be in great danger if I go…"

"Please," said the small House Elf. A tear rolled down her cheek. "Tenny thinks if the Miss Weezy goes…if the Mistress Ginny goes…it will be saving Master Draco. Yes, Tenny is thinking this."

"Tenny," Ginny reached out, drawing the House Elf to her. Her eyes pricked with tears. "I…I know. I know. I'll do what I can, I promise."

"Thank you. Thank you, Mistress Ginny. You is saving my young Master Draco, Tenny is knowing this."

"Tenny," said a voice behind them. Ron had reached the gazebo. Ginny rose, releasing the House Elf. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing," said Ginny, wiping her face. "Tenny was telling me about Draco. Thank you, Tenny. We must go, now. We're in danger here."

Tenny nodded. "Promise to be caring for him, Mistress Ginny?"

Ginny smiled. "I promise."

The little House Elf smiled. "Good night to you, Mr. Weezy sir."

"Good night."

Tenny snapped her fingers, and disappeared.

"What was that all about?" asked Ron questioningly, as they started back across the knoll. "Are you alright? What did it have to do with Draco?"

"She was worried about him. She asked me to…continue to try to reach him."

"That's it?"

"Well…and to tell me that there are a few places that I can meet her in the future, you know, to get letters and such for her, or to give Draco something without having to go through the post. Um…do you know where Grosvenor Street is?"

"Sure, that's in London."

"Mr. Borgin's?"

"Er…Knockturn Alley—she wants you to meet her there?"

"They're all places she wouldn't stand out."

"No…but you would."

"Anyways…Chestnut Grove Park?"

"Er…that's in Surrey, I think."

"Little Hangleton?"

"That's near the Riddle House, that is. Near Yorkshire. Harry went there. I don't think you should go there," he said seriously.

"Okay, I'll stay away. What about the Isle of Drear?"

"_Ginny!"_

"I'm kidding! I think I know all the rest of the places she mentioned."

"You know, it's really not a good idea, meeting her…not after tomorrow."

Ginny gazed down at the ground. "I know…I just keep hoping that somehow…tomorrow just won't come."

Ron looped an arm about her shoulders. "I know, Gin…but you've got to just try and be strong. Hopefully, it won't make anything different…"

"You don't believe that."

"Well, no, I don't," he admitted. "But I do believe in Professor Dumbledore, and he and the Order are doing everything in their power to see that the ceremony does not go on. I might not have faith in Malfoy, but I have faith in them."

Ginny nodded. They'd reached the confectioner's.

_Little Hangleton. Someone will be there to stop it, Ron. But it won't necessarily be Professor Dumbledore…_

Ron withdrew a leather bag containing their Floo Powder. "Here…"

He poured out a stream, forgetting to cup his hand as it poured out, slipping through his fingers.

"RON! You're spilling it!"

"Ginny…" he pointed up.

Far above them, a hailstorm of owls was sailing across the sky.

Ginny turned to him, wide-eyed.

"Something's happened," he said. "We need to get back."

-------------------------

"Azkaban's been broken!" Ron cried a few moments later, when he and Ginny had returned, covered in soot and Floo powder.

Hermione nodded miserably. "Professor Dumbledore suspected this would happen, so close to the ceremony. He and the entire Order have gone to secure it, but they think its too late—most of the Death Eaters have escaped."

"Including Crabbe, Goyle, Rodolphe Lestrange—and Lucius Malfoy," said Harry bitterly.

"Bloody Hell." Ron sat down wearily. "What is the Headmaster going to do now?"

"Try and clean up everything, I suppose," said Mrs. Weasley, glancing worriedly at her clock. The hands for Bill, Charlie, the Twins and Mr. Weasley all pointed to 'Prison'.

"Has he given up trying to find where the ceremony will take place?" asked Ginny quietly.

"No," said Mrs. Weasley. "But he now has limited resources. Chances are, he's not going to find it in time." She placed a hand on Ginny's shoulder. "I'm sorry, dear."

Ginny nodded, pulling from the table and heading up the stairs.

"This is horrid!" shouted Harry, slamming his fists on the table. "There's nothing we can do!"

"Nor should you be thinking of doing anything!" said Mrs. Weasley, a bit sharply. "There is no need to cause Professor Dumbledore any more concern by throwing yourself out into the melee. Let _him_ handle everything."

Harry didn't reply, just rand a hand through his dark hair.

"What did Tenny have to say?" asked Hermione.

Ron shrugged. "Nothing much, I suppose. She asked Ginny to continue to push Draco—to try and keep him 'good' or something. At least, that's what I got out of it. Kind of a difficult request, if you ask me. But she is a House Elf who's served their family for years. You'd only expect her to want the best for him. Maybe she thinks he's better off with Ginny."

Hermione didn't say anything to this, just crossed her arms. "Well, with the entire wizarding world on alert now that Azkaban's been broken into, maybe Voldemort will have to postpone or put off the ceremony."

"I highly doubt it," said Harry. "He doesn't stop for anything—or anyone. My guess is, the missing Death Eaters are already where they need to be for the ceremony. We can only hope Professor Dumbledore and the others can figure out where that is.

"If they don't," he said sourly, "then we're going to have twice the problem—with twice the power—on our hands."

---------------

There had been no news of the escape when Ginny rose the next morning, to the sounds of her Mother bustling about in the kitchen. The clock on the wall had said that her brothers and father were in transit, on their way home. Mrs. Weasley was obviously pleased.

"At least none of them were injured," she said. Ginny frowned.

Harry and Hermione had flooed to the Ministry, to check on Professor Lupin. He'd needed to take his Wolfsbane potion earlier that day, and Professor Snape had apparently left the vial with them earlier that morning so they could take it to him.

Ginny glanced at the hourglass clock next to her Mum. According to that, it was mid-morning.

She'd looked up Little Hangleton in an atlas last evening before she went to bed. With the distance, and providing good windspeed, she figured she could fly there in about four hours—meaning she needed to leave soon, to be able to find a spot where she could talk to Draco without being seen. She'd already made preparations.

"Morning," said Ron, coming in from the outside. He'd been working on some of their brooms with Harry's Broomstick Kit. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," she said.

He stared at her for a moment. "Dad and the others are about to come back, right?"

His mother nodded, laying platters on the table. "They should be here any moment. Ah."

The sound of lively chatter greeted them as Fred, George, Bill, Charlie and Mr. Weasley entered noisily through the back door.

"I'm famished…thanks Mum," said Charlie, kissing her on the cheek. Bill sat down at the table, kicking off his boots. "Look's great, Mum."

"Any news on the prisoners?" asked Ron.

Fred shook his head. "They're long gone."

"Been planning this for weeks," said George.

"Obvious, when you take a look at it."

"But who would have been looking in the first place? They're not much to look at."

"Or for."

"What about the Dementors?" asked Ginny.

"Nowhere near as many as before," said Mr. Weasley. "Which is why this escape was so much easier than Sirius's. I think they were waiting, biding their time so as not to stir up trouble. Dumbledore had a hunch, but he couldn't very well act on it when they'd not done anything."

"And with the Dementors in such short supply, it was either keep the Order there, or have them out looking for You-Know-Who," said Bill. "Lesser of two evils sorta thing."

"Well, at least all we have to do is look in one place, now," said Fred.

"Yeah, a great bloody flock of black-robed wizards can't be hard to miss."

"In any case, Dumbledore and the Order will be out full-force, searching for them tonight. I just hope we can find them."

"Well, you won't be going anywhere until you get a nice full breakfast," said Mrs. Weasley cheerfully. "Eat up, boys."

"I'm not very hungry…I'm going to go for a walk," said Ginny suddenly, rising from the table. The group stopped chattering.

"You 'right, Thhn?" asked George through a mouthful of scrambled eggs. Her mother raised an eyebrow.

"I'm fine. Just not very hungry," she cast her Mum a weary look. Mrs. Weasley studied her, then smiled softly.

"Of course, dear," she said gently. "Go on, none of these lunkheads will bother you."

"Bother 'er 'bout what?" asked Fred.

Ron punched his shoulder.

"Owww!"

"Tell us if you need anything," said Charlie.

She smiled at him. "Thanks. It might be long, I probably won't be back for a while."

"Just be careful…watch out for those muggles," said Bill with a wink. Ginny smiled at him.

She strolled casually out the door, smoothly grasping one of the twins' brooms, now neatly tuned thanks to Ron's morning work. Her cloak from the previous evening was hidden by the shed. She'd stuffed an apple and a piece of cheese in her jumper.

She was going to find the Death Eaters, and Voldemort, before anyone else did.

There was a note on Ron's desk, hidden by an invisibility charm that was set to reveal around sunset. That should give her brother and the rest of the Order enough time to reach the Riddle House before the ceremony was complete. But not before she'd had time to find Draco—and save him.

Ginny wrapped her cloak around herself, making sure she was far enough from her family's sight to set her broom down, and take a seat upon it.

Little Hangleton awaited.

------------------------

"Mistress calls you," said Tenny, pushing open the doors of his bedroom. "Master Draco, is you ready?"

Draco lifted his head, staring at his reflection in the mirror.

A seventeen-year-old boy stared back at him, his eyes rimmed with dark circles, looking wan, and tired.

A thick black cloak enshrouded him, resting softly on his silver-blond hair. A silver signet ring was on his finger.

"Master Draco?"

"Yes, Tenny, I'm ready." He reached down atop his dresser drawer. On the high collar below his cloak, he clipped his badge—the one with the Gryffindor seal upon it. He gave himself a wan smile in the mirror, and turned.

"I'm ready, Tenny."

--------------------------

The ridge above Little Hangleton glowed a dull, shimmering green. Draco watched from the window of the carriage as a small, battered house came into view. It rose, ghostly, over a fog-filled courtyard, where a few dozen shadowed figures floated, silently, through the mist.

In the thickest of silences, he and his mother had made their way to the graveyard. She had prepared their last resort for traveling—an ancient carriage, tied to a six-team of thestrals, and enchanted to be invisible to muggle eyes. They would never travel by broomstick, and most certainly not by Floo, to a ceremony of this great an importance.

The carriage settled softly on the flagstones of the steps nearest the house. A bit of misdirected magic had been used to conceal the house from muggle eyes—a dangerous trick, should any of the Order, who knew this residence well, stumble upon the fallacy. But they were preoccupied with the breaking of Azkaban, and would more than likely be tracking groups rather than scouting locations.

"Come," said his Mother coldly, as the carriage lurched to a halt. Her beautiful silver-blond hair was covered with the same thick cloak as his, but unlike many of those gathered outside, she wore no mask.

She pulled her cloak over her head, to hide her face. Draco followed her, doing the same.

He saw figures, hunched, as he walked slowly past. Many wore the masks of old—followers of his father, and those who had risen with the Dark Lord during his initial climb to power.

And there were cloaks of new as well—those who were unmasked, like him. Those who were waiting to follow him. From beneath one cloak, he saw a hand, thin, like Pansy's, pull her cloak closer to her face. A fellow on his left grunted like Crabbe. Another, nearby, faltered a bit, taking a gait like Avery was wont to do.

Draco drew in a breath as his mother led the way towards the front of the mass. There was a shimmering stone rising in the narrows before them. In the center was carved the Dark Mark, glistening, as though alive. A robed figure stood before it, his face completely hidden. By his side, another rose tall, silver eyes gleaming through his mask.

Lucius Malfoy.

Narcissa placed a hand on Draco's shoulder, guiding him away from the stone in the center. His heart was beating rapidly. He couldn't take his eyes off the robed figure. Power existed within that figure.

"Remain here," she said, leaving him at the outskirts of the crowd alongside a mausoleum. "Come when I call."

He swallowed. "Yes Mother."

She moved to the front of the gathered crowd. He watched, his mouth dry, as she took her place before the figure Draco was certain was the Dark Lord.

A cloaked arm reached out from behind the mausoleum, yanking him forward, beneath its shadow.

He would have cried out, but a soft hand placed itself over his mouth. "Is this what you truly want?" breathed a voice next to his ear.

Draco stared, openmouthed, as Ginny leaned back from him, letting her hand fall from his lips. She looked disheveled, a brown cloak covering most of her ruby red hair, mussed, more than likely, from hours of flying.

He said nothing, just pulled her to him, kissing her softly. When he released her she breathed against him, sinking into his arms. The cloak fell from his head; he buried his face in her hair.

"Ginny…"

Her hands reached up to his face, pulling away from him gently. "Is this what you really want?"

He tried to avoid her gaze. "How did you get here? The enchantments…the…"

"I've been here since the afternoon," she said softly. "Waiting for you. I saw it all—the barrier, even the arrival of You-Know-Who."

"What? Alone? Ginny…do you have any idea of what he might have done to…"

"The Order will be coming, Draco. Shortly. But I had to see you first. I had to let you decide."

Behind them, the Death Eaters were murmuring softly—just feet away from her.

_They'll kill her…_

He'd never felt so scared about anything in his life. "Ginny…you can't stop this…please…you're in danger here…"

She ignored him, just placed her hands on his face. "Will you let me go? Can you give me up? No more letters—no more messages. Just me. Can you leave me here like this?"

"He might kill you…"

"I am here to save you, Draco. However I must."

"No. If he finds you…"

"Then I will die. That is what you mean to me," she said softly. "More than my own life." Her hand stroked his cheek. "More than anything."

His heart was beating rapidly. "Ginny…"

"Anything." She pulled him to her, wrapping her arms about him.

A lightness began to creep through his heart. Everything he'd pushed down, held back in the past few weeks, started to fade. The bitterness in his soul, the cold of his heart, dissipated.

He pulled her to close to him. _She's saving me… _"I can't…I won't. I won't leave you. You were right."

She pulled back from him, her eyes filled with tears. "Draco."

"You were right. You were right, you were right."

She smiled, pulling to him. "Bloody brilliant time to figure this out."

He grinned, nearly laughing. He felt lighter than air. "We should go—quickly."

"There's a pathway here, through the house," she said softly. "We'd have just enough time to get to my broomstick. We can go without being seen."

"We have to…"

A burst of light shot above them. Draco's eyes widened, and he pushed her back, up against the column of the mausoleum. The light formed into a skull—with a snake in its mouth.

The Dark Mark.

"They're beginning," he whispered hurriedly. "There's no time."

"We have to go…"

"We can't…there's no time."

"Yes there is!"

"No! I have to go back, my mother and father will wonder. They'll look—we'll have no time to leave. They'll curse us before we can get away."

"No!" She clutched at him. "Don't…you'll be…"

"How long?"

"Long?"

"Before the Order?"

"Perhaps an hour, maybe less."

"Then…an hour." He bent down, kissing her once more, and hugged her tightly. "_Stay out of sight."_

"Draco…"

"Please!" he said desperately. "Please, Ginny. I'll do what I can."

She searched his face, and finally nodded.

He pulled the cloak over his head, hiding his face. For the first time in a week, he smiled. A shadow had passed through him—beyond him. In the midst of all the madness—a sense of peace.

He pulled her to him once more. "I love you."

There were tears in her eyes. "Draco…be careful."

---------------------

"There is no bloody way they're going to find them," said Ron, settling back against a chair. "They'll have cast loads of enchantments by now."

"Don't say that," said Hermione. "Professor Dumbledore is just as smart as Voldemort. He'll find them."

The Weasleys had gone out with the Order; all except Mrs. Weasley, who'd stepped through the Floo to tend to Professor Lupin.

Harry was pacing back and forth in front of the fire. "I wish I could have gone with them."

Hermione shook her head. "You can't take on Voldemort and an army of Death Eaters."

"Why not? I did it before," he snapped.

She sighed. "Harry…"

"What about a game of wizard snap?" asked Ron. "I've got cards in my room."

"That's fantastic, Ron," said Hermione. Harry flopped in a chair, waving his hand.

"You can't save the world, Harry," Hermione said quietly. "Not yet."

"Speaking of which, where's Ginny?" asked Harry, trying to change the subject. "Wasn't she supposed to be back hours ago?"

"BLOODY HELL!"

Hermione glanced at Harry, who jumped out of his seat, nearly knocking into Ron, who'd flown down the stairs.

"Ron, what's wrong?" cried Hermione, her eyes widening at the sight of his panicked face.

"Ginny…she's…she's gone to…she knows…she's gone…You-Know-Who…"

"_WHAT_!"

Harry ripped the letter from Ron's hand, Hermione reading over his shoulder.

"Bloody hell," he said softly.

"Where…where is that?" asked Hermione, her hands trembling. "Where are they?"

"The Riddle House," said Harry. "They're at the Riddle House."

"Isn't that where…" Hermione wasn't able to finish. "We…we need to inform the Order."

"THE ORDER!" yelled Ron. "SHE'S GONE TO A GATHERING OF GREAT BLOODY DEATH EATERS! THERE'S NO BLOODY TIME!"

Hermione searched them, her hand raising to her forehead. "What…what do we do? What do we do?"

"HEDWIG! PIG!" cried Harry. He ripped Ginny's note in half, and on the back of both pieces, scribbled "Riddle House."

Hedwig flew in through the window. "Take this to Professor Dumbledore," he instructed, not bothering to take the time to roll it up. She clasped the note in her beak, and raised her wings, flying out through the window. He moved over to where Pig was perched on the sill. "Take this to Professor Lupin," he said. The little owl chirp and grabbed the piece of paper.

He turned to his friends. "Let's go."

-------------------------

Draco moved out into the courtyard, pulling the cloak over his head to hide his face.

His mother stood near the front of the mass of Death Eaters. The robed figure in front of the stone pillar turned. "Come," he hissed.

Draco felt a cold shiver run through him. _The voice of the Dark Lord._

The Death Eaters moved closer. Draco moved with them, leaving Ginny in the shadow of the tomb.

"Be loyal, all who come here," the Dark Lord commanded. Near him, a twitching finger raised a silver arm.

"Loyal," chanted the Death Eaters.

"We become one, tonight," said the figure. "So our Dark Lord commands it."

"We become more than one," said the Dark Lord. "Tonight we unite the strong with the pure, to become the greatest of wizards. We call upon the First—to become the First."

He looked up, a pair of withered red eyes boring into the crowd. "Who comes first…"

Narcissa turned to the outskirts, her eyes immediately finding Draco. "The Dark Lord calls the first."

He heard a whispered gasp from behind the tomb. "I am First," he said shakily, stepping from beyond the masses. "I come."

He moved as slowly as he could, allowing the Death Eaters to part for him. His Mother lined up to the edge of the parting center. She moved to him, placing a hand on his shoulder, and guided him towards the rise

Draco stepped up to the pillar, his heart beating uncontrollably. The Dark Lord was only inches away.

Lucius Malfoy placed a hand on Draco's other shoulder. "He comes when called, my Lord. He is the first."

Behind him, the Death Eaters began to kneel.

Draco glanced up. The skies above them remained clear, save the remnants of the Dark Mark, which hovered above them, like stars. _Come soon…_

The Dark Lord raised a hand, slowly pushing past his cloak, caressing his chin. "You come…willingly?"

Draco swallowed, trying not to breathe. The smell was old, of revenants, grave dust and death. "I…I come…to serve."

"You come…willingly?"

There was a finger on his tongue, something wet dropping down his throat. He coughed.

The Dark Lord raised his other hand, cupping Draco's face in his skeletal fingers. "You come willingly?"

The world was spinning. "N-no. No…I don't want to…I am not loyal to you," he heard himself whispering.

His eyes widened in horror. _Veritaserum…NO!_

A brightness exploded. He was stumbling backwards, falling off the knoll, the pain in his head immense, impossible to fathom.

"TRAITOR!" cried the Dark Lord. "TRAITOR!"

Narcissa was staring at Draco beneath the folds of her cloak, horrified. His father's expression was one of pure fury.

"TRAITOR!" he raised his wand. "YOU ARE UNWORTHY!" Draco's Mother was raising her hands, looking to the mausoleum…the Death Eaters moved upon him…the Dark Lord raised a wand…

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

The scream broke through the chaos, the muttering Death Eaters who were cursing him stopping, turning to look. Silence filled the air. The Dark Lord raised his head, his wand poised.

"DON'T KILL HIM! PLEASE!"

Ginny stood in the center of the graveyard.

_No. No...no…no_

The wand of the Dark Lord shook. Ginny moved forward. The Death Eaters began to move towards her, many of them snarling angrily.

One moved forward, grabbing her forcefully by her hair. She shrieked as he pulled her forward.

"RELEASE HER!" cried the Dark Lord in a horrifying, loud voice, which echoed above the tombstones.

The entire group of Death Eaters went dead silent, surprise filtering through the ranks.

Ginny sniffled, yanking her hair from the Death Eater's grasp. Threads of red floated to the ground.

She moved forward silently, making her way to the bottom of the knoll.

"Tom Riddle…" she said softly. "Tom Riddle…I know you."

The Dark Lord recoiled. "Vile. Stained."

"I know you. You know me," she whispered. "You _know_ me."

"UNWORTHY!" cried a Death Eater nearby, striking Ginny across the face. She flew to the ground. Draco rose, pummeling towards him.

A pair of beefy hands, looking very similar to Goyle's, grasped him by the neck and tossed him aside.

"_Cruiciatus_,"hissed the Dark Lord, attacking the Death Eater who'd struck Ginny. The man writhed in pain as the Dark Lord moved forward. "Come," he said to her, extending a hand.

Ginny swallowed, wiping blood from her nose, and moved forward, towards him.

"What do you offer?" he asked.

She set her trembling lips. "Everything," she whispered. "Everything."

"Come."

She passed by Draco. He watched with horrified eyes from his position at the feet of the Death Eaters.

_No…_

She moved towards the Dark Lord, reaching him, and bowing her head. He raised his hands to her, touching her hair, caressing her face. His fingers found her mouth. Draco felt his stomach turn. His heart was beating so fast it felt like a giant lump in his chest.

"Do you come willingly…"

She shivered as the drop of Veritaserum touched her tongue. After a moment, she licked her lips.

"I do..."

"Why?"

"To save him," she said softly.

"Will you give yourself to me…all of you…to become one…"

"Yes. To save him."

"What…what are you _doing_?" Draco cried, trying to pull to his feet. Goyle pinned him down. A voice near him placed hands on his shoulders, and hissed, "you brought this on yourself, Draco. And on her. We warned you."

_Pansy…_

"NO! Ginny…"

"I will go...willingly," Ginny repeated.

The Dark Lord stared at her. "You are not worthy of the honour."

"I am a pureblood." said Ginny robotically. "I am not the First chosen child, but I am the most powerful among them. I have something your children do not."

"And what is that?" the Dark Lord rasped.

"Tom Riddle. Inside me."

The crowd of Death Eaters started to murmur, many of them in harsh, guttural tones.

"She is not the right choice, my Lord," said the closest Death Eater. He sounded old. "She is a mudblood lover…she…"

"Silence," the Dark Lord hissed. He was studying Ginny with burning eyes. "You come with no objection, pureblood?"

Ginny turned to Draco, who stared at her.

"Ginny, Ginny…" he whispered. "Ginny…"

"I do. On the condition that nothing happens to _him_."

"His fate is not in your hands."

"I shall only come if he is protected. I will die if he is not, by your hand or mine."

A small grin crept upon the Dark Lord's face. "Very…intriguing. Then I give him to you, as you give yourself to me. His life is yours to save…as your life is mine to take."

"NO!" Draco screamed, breaking from Crabbe's iron grip and pulling to his feet. "She has nothing to do with this! She has never been a part of this!"

Voldemort moved to her side, clasping long fingers about her wrist. Ginny shuddered, her lower lip trembling. Tears were rolling down her cheeks.

"She is a part of this now." The Dark Lord stroked her hair. "She will be the first. I know her already…she is strong. And she is mine. She has been for quite a long time."

Draco lunged at him.

"_Cruciatus_!"

He felt his body contort, bending and twisting in that familiar, excruciating way, as his aunt had done to him what seemed like ages ago. He heard his voice echoing in the dark distance.

The pain subsided. A shadow blocked the dim light from the cauldron. The Death Eater who had cast the curse was standing over him.

The cold voice of his father echoed through his mask. "Such a disappointment, Draco. The only good thing you could have done is brought that girl here. I would have killed her before, but it appears the Dark Lord has taken a liking to her."

Draco crouched to the ground, slowly pulling out his wand. "It won't work. She…"

"…is no longer yours to be concerned about," said his Father coldly. "There is nothing for you to be concerned with anymore."

"Let him be, Lucius," said a female voice from nearby. "Leave him alone. He can do nothing more."

"Would you let him live, Narcissa?"

Draco felt his breath catch in his throat. _Mother…_

There was a pause.

"Do you need ask me that? His life is up to the Dark Lord, and the Dark Lord has willed it to his chosen one."

The shadow of his father remained for a moment longer, then passed away. The Death Eaters were murmuring in the distance. There was a whimpering amongst the voices.

_Ginny…_

A figure crouched down beside him. A slender hand was stroking his head. "I'm sorry, Draco. I'm sorry you couldn't be what you needed to be. That was my fault."

"Mother…"

"I'm sorry. For everything."

Draco glanced up at her. The shadow of the hood was covering her face, but her wand hand was trembling.

"I'm sorry, Draco. I warned you once before. Just like with your aunt. I'm sorry."

She raised her wand. "Goodbye."

_--------------------_

The Death Eaters were crowding around; Ginny could no longer see Draco, shadowed by the form that was, she was certain, Narcissa Malfoy. The Veritaserum was wearing off.

_She'll save him, I know she will. She will. She's his Mother_

Voldemort was still holding tightly to her wrist. She swallowed, trying to see past them.

"My Lord," came the unmistakable grunt of Gregory Goyle's father. "We must hurry, we will not have long. If she is here, they will not be far behind. We must go."

There was a blinding flash behind them.

Voldemort turned, swinging her around with him. The crowd of Death Eaters parted.

Narcissa Malfoy was standing on her feet. "Draco, what are you doing?"

"Stay away from me! I'll kill you!"

"Draco!"

His eyes caught Ginny; he looked panicked, afraid. "DRACO! You said you wouldn't hurt him!" she screamed, trying to pull away.

"Don't move, or you will join him," Voldemort hissed.

"NO!"

"Draco, stop!" Narcissa cried, her hood falling back. Her abundant silver blond hair fell outward, framing her face. "You cannot save her! Draco! Don't make me! _Please!_"

"NO!" He lunged forward, towards the group. "You can't…"

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Ginny watched, openmouthed, as the curse flew from Narcissa Malfoy's wand, slamming into the back of Draco's robes as he flew towards her. A word died on his lips as he stretched a hand towards her, the light fading from his eyes.

She couldn't move; she couldn't even cry his name.

Voldemort turned from the scene and grappled with one of the nearby gravestones. The other Death Eaters continued to stare as Mrs. Malfoy fell to her knees, her wand slipping from her hand.

"We go," Voldemort said coldly.

Ginny continued to stare at the lifeless form of Draco, one arm outstretched, reaching for her.

From somewhere, a shriek louder than she'd ever heard echoed through the thin night air. She couldn't be certain who it was—whether it came from her mouth, or from Narcissa's.

Light around them flashed; there was a familiar pull at her stomach, and Draco, Narcissa, and the graveyard faded into darkness.

_------------------------_

Harry felt the wind rush past his face. His heart was pounding wildly in his chest, as it had been since they'd found Ginny's note.

Hermione was clinging to him, her arms wrapped around him. Her heart was beating just as fast, though he couldn't be certain if it was because of the situation or because of how quickly they were flying on his Firebolt.

She'd declined to fly with Ron, and he couldn't say he blamed her, despite Ron's broom being slightly slower and steadier—Firebolts, as International standard brooms, required a great deal more control on the part of the flyer.

But Ron hadn't said two words after they'd left. He simply got his broom, took it outside and flew upwards.

They'd been going that way on to two hours.

Towards the Riddle House.

A place he'd never heard called by its real name, but one he knew intimately well, because he'd been there before.

The shorn shingles of that old manor house—the one that haunted his nightmares--slowly faded into view. A fog had settled around the small knoll upon which it stood.

Somewhere below it, the graveyard sat. Harry shuddered.

Ron slowly began to circle down, as though afraid to fly through the mist. Hermione lifted her head from Harry's back, staring down over the edge of the broom, her arms tightening slightly about his waist.

"Is this…"

"The home of Voldemort's father. The Riddle House," replied Harry, raising his voice slightly over the wind.

_I hoped I'd never see it again…_

"Harry…"

She nodded towards Ron, who was pelting to the ground. "We'd better go help him." He started a rapid descent down towards the ground, causing Hermione to yelp.

The fog was thick, so much so that Harry could barely see around him. To his left he could just make out the shape of a tall stone. The Dark Mark was etched upon it.

He felt a lump rise in his throat.

"Harry," Hermione whispered, and moved forward.

Harry moved ahead, searching the ground, looking for any visible sign. Parts of the sparse grass were trampled down, as though a large group of people had stood there. They formed a semicircle around a small knoll, with that strange obelisk shaped stone in the center—the one with the Mark emblazoned upon it.

That hadn't been there before.

Ron was ahead of him, studying the stone curiously. He bent down to the ground.

"SHE WAS HERE!"

Hermione and Harry rushed over to him. In his hand, he clutched one thin strand of long, bright red hair.

Hermione stared at it. "But where…where did she go?"

Harry shook his head.

He glanced off to the side. There was a mound of dark robes lying on the ground. He moved over towards it. Hermione and Ron continued to study the hair, glancing over at the pillar for any sort of a sign.

He moved closer; his breath caught in his throat.

_It can't be…_

"Ron! Hermione!"

Ron and Hermione made their way over. They stopped a few feet away from him, eyes widening.

Hermione raised a hand to her face. "It can't be…Malfoy!"

Harry bent down, rolling the figure over. The unmistakable features of Draco Malfoy stared up at him, lifeless. He was cold to the touch.

Ron was staring in horror. "He…he can't be…"

There was a jagged, lightning bolt shaped cut across his back.

"He's been hit with a deadly curse," said Harry softly. "Was he trying to save Ginny?"

"Who could do something like this?" asked Hermione, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"I could," said a cold voice behind them.

Narcissa Malfoy was standing behind him, the hood of her Death Eater's robe pulled back, holding her wand out towards them menacingly.

"And I can do it again."

_All I can say is, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, bows I'm sorry this is so long! I'm sorry about what I just did to Draco. Don't worry, Chapter 6 will come when the HBP excitement dies away!_

_On a lighter note, enjoy Half-Blood Prince! _


	6. Blood and Shadows

_Well, you've read HBP…what did you think? _

_Despite the developments, we're back into the world of fanfiction! Though its nearly impossible for me to continue in canon (particularly because of some romantic developments that just…well, completely derail D/G) I'll continue along the lines I've drawn, delving into an alternative possibility for Harry, Draco and Ginny, writing as close to the original style as possible._

_The opening portions of this story were written pre-Half-Blood Prince—so some of the observations Narcissa makes about Draco came before J.K. revealed he indeed questioned his position as a servant of the Dark Lord and that his character was torn between killing and doing what he had to for love of his family. Also pre-HBP is the desire Voldemort has to split his soul amidst his followers. Though not exactly a horcrux, I did get a few chills rereading what I'd imagined and planned nearly a year ago, before I had any idea of what would come in HBP! _

_Enjoy!_

The graveyard stood empty, devoid of all life. A bitter breeze blew through the sparse trees that littered the edge.

Harry kneeled over the cold, lifeless body of Draco Malfoy, staring grimly at Narcissa Malfoy as she stood, facing them, her wand raised threateningly.

Anger began to bubble up inside him. No one, not even _Malfoy_, deserved such a fate…

_To be killed…to be killed at the hands of you own Mother_…

"HOW COULD YOU DO THAT? HOW COULD YOU KILL YOUR OWN SON!" Harry screamed, rising to his feet and withdrawing his wand. "HOW COULD YOU!"

"Harry!" Hermione cried from behind him, trying vainly to clasp his arm and pull him backwards. "Harry, please!"

"HOW COULD YOU!" he shouted, ignoring her. "WHAT MOTHER COULD KILL HER OWN SON?"

"NO MOTHER!" Narcissa screamed back, her voice cutting through the bitter silence.

Harry stopped his march forward, surprised, his wand still raised.

She studied him for a moment, then slowly lowered her wand. "As it so happens, there is nothing more a Mother could want for her child than to see them live forever. They would sacrifice their life for their son. Or the life of another."

She nodded towards the form on the ground. Slowly, the blond hair began to recede. Draco's soft, sharp face filled out, his smooth skin giving way to age spots, his brows fading together into soft gray lumps.

The body of an old man formed, and became whole.

Harry's brows knotted. "What…"

"Armando Luftwich. A Ministry Employee. I had a few things to settle with him after he chose to help Bellatrix—and no one else found out."

"You mean…you set this up?"

"Do you really think I would allow my son to get killed, after all I've done for him?"

"But…but the meeting…"

"Draco _was_ here. But my plan insured he would not remain the entire time. And that Mr. Luftwich here, with a carefully prepared Polyjuice potion, would take his place."

"So you could just kill him?" asked Ron, a look of disgust on his face.

"Because of him, Draco, you, and everyone else at Hogwarts nearly died. Would you not say that death at the hands of the Death Eaters was a just fate? Wouldn't you kill the Death Eaters who, right now, are trying to kill your sister?"

He frowned.

"No, he wouldn't. None of us would, would we?" said Hermione, glancing between them.

Ron didn't respond, just stared at Narcissa defiantly.

Narcissa raised an eyebrow. "Don't be so certain you know everything about everyone, child. People will always surprise you. Luftwich surprised me. I never thought he would betray me, but he did."

Hermione raised her chin.

"If this is a Ministry employee, then where is Draco?" Harry asked suddenly, interrupting her before she could speak.

"Draco is safe," said Narcissa hesitantly. Her expression softened for a moment. "You see, I know my own son better than he knows himself. I knew that he would never be able to pass the test of the Veritaserum. I knew the Dark Lord could never accept him. He denied himself, denied his legacy—all because of _your_ _sister_," she said, nodding towards Ron.

He frowned at her. "It's not like anyone on Ginny's side approved. If he'd wanted to join the Death Eaters and given up on Ginny, no one would have complained."

Narcissa glared at him.

"But why?" asked Harry. "I know that Malfoy cares about Ginny—but how…why would he have agreed to what he agreed to, if he truly loved her? Why should he even have been here tonight?"

"Because Draco has been torn—he has been struggling from the very first time he met you—between what he believes he owes his family and what he feels he owes himself. Everything you've ever encountered in school with regards to his "bad" reputation has been the product of his father, and his father's insistence that he continue on the Malfoy legacy. I would never have denied Lucius that right—or Draco that privilege. But Draco has always had a soft side—"

"A _SOFT SIDE?_" Ron snorted.

Narcissa narrowed her eyes. "Only those who have known the Malfoys would understand. Had Draco truly been of his legacy, he would have exercised a power much greater than the few jinxes and schoolchild curses he threw your way. Even his desire to see your muggle-born friend here fall at the hands of the basilisk was an immature little boy echoing the sentiments he heard his father eschew.

"Perhaps he would have stayed that way—or perhaps not, his own heart might have questioned the nature of what he had been destined for. I will never truly know whether Draco would have had a heart capable of murder had he been left to these choices on his own, because your sister entered his life. She worked her way into the depths of his soul, and brought out the part of it I hoped his father would never see. For Draco's sake, it would have been safer had Ginny never been a part of his life."

"But she was," said Hermione softly.

"Yes, she was. And because of that, she has placed not only Draco, but herself and your entire family in danger."

"That's not Ginny's fault," said Ron, looking at the ground. "She can't stop what's in her heart. No one can."

"You're absolutely right," said Narcissa. "And you're not the only one who knows so. The only power the Dark Lord has never been able to overcome is love. It is truly the greatest force in our world. That proved true today, and for your sister's sake, I hope it continues to prove so."

"What do you mean? Why would you care about what happens to Ginny?"

"Because Draco cares for her," Narcissa replied, crossing her arms. "I have slain my own sister, betrayed my husband, my family, my heritage, and my Dark Lord for the sake of my son—who also betrayed those things for only one purpose—to allow himself to love.

"I have lived my entire life serving the Dark. I have been proud of my lineage, and never regretted my choices—save for one thing. Do you not imagine, that, just for once, I would have liked to have known the ability to be cherished as your Mother has?" she nodded at Ron.

"Or yours?" she continued, glancing at Harry's eyes. "Your Mother was so loved that more than one man died or betrayed their friends trying to protect her. Had the Dark Lord chosen to strike me down for my actions tonight—not for the act of killing 'Draco' but for the choice to stay behind and mourn him—Lucius would not have raised a finger to my aid.

"We are not a family to love. We have never been. But somehow, strangely enough, either by my will to love him, or by the will of your sister to change him, or perhaps by both, Draco turned out differently from his family. He is the first Malfoy to respect the family name, but love beyond the family heritage. I suppose a part of me wished for that."

She sighed.

Harry watched her for a moment. "You _are_ a part of that. Had you never shown him love, whatever form you may have given, Draco would not have known to seek it out. You have given, and you are loved in return."

Hermione and Ron both stared at him.

Narcissa grinned slightly. "But not enough, Mr. Potter. Not enough."

After a moment, she straightened. "Knowing Draco like I know him, I knew he would deny his destiny when it was presented to him, even if it meant his life. I had to do something, and knowing the nature of _your_ family, Ginny was the natural choice. I knew Ginny would pursue him if she found out where we were at. Her coming here, I am afraid, IS my fault, because I let her know when and where the ceremony would take place."

Ron narrowed his eyes, but Hermione placed a hand on his shoulder, and he remained silent.

"It was my only option. I knew Ginny would offer to switch places with Draco, and that the Dark Lord would not be able to resist her. And I knew that Draco would try and save her, in defiance of everyone—which is why I set up this switch, using a special Portkey I had prepared.

"Right now, Lucius, Lord Voldemort, and the rest of the Death Eaters have no idea anyone knows what they are about. But I'm afraid that you will have very little time to rescue your little sister. My plan concerned only Draco's life, not hers. To this point, it still does. Draco, I'm afraid, will not agree with me, and I will have to step aside and no longer interfere."

"What IS this ceremony? What is Voldemort planning to do?"

Narcissa narrowed her eyes. "I would imagine you've had a taste of it, haven't you, Potter? It was how the Dark Lord revived himself in the first place."

Harry frowned. "To revive himself, the Dark Lord needed a part of me, to protect himself against the protective spell my Mother had granted me. But why would he want to pass that to Ginny?"

"Not just that—every part of him. Voldemort knows that his powers here are still limited, and that Dumbledore is a powerful foe. But if he can pass on his legacy—his skills and powers, along with his own form of protection for his own child—then the follower he creates will be more powerful than any witch or wizard that has ever been."

"You mean he's going to possess Ginny?" Ron asked, horrified.

"Not quite. He's not going to take her body over—that would be impossible. But he can manipulate her mind—using the same powers he employed in his diary—and awaken his physical powers in her form. With her rebirth will come a special protection afforded only to her—a part of your Mother's spell—that will be difficult to overcome. She will be like his physical form, but younger, stronger—and with all his powers untapped. It is what the Dark Lord most desires.

"When that desire is transferred to her, then, like you, Potter, even the Unforgiveable Curses will have no effect on her. She will become all powerful. And with her mind tied to his, she will be his completely—and completely unredeemable. She will become the single most powerful witch the world has ever seen, and no one, including Dumbledore, will be able to stop her."

"But…Ginny wouldn't allow anything like that to happen to her!" said Hermione. "She'd never allow her heart to be taken over by Voldemort."

"Are you so certain?"

"YES! Ginny isn't like that! Why would you even believe…"

"Because it's happened before," said Harry slowly, studying Mrs. Malfoy's calm face. "That's why you knew Voldemort would take her. Because Tom Riddle manipulated her—and just like me, a part of him resides in her still. That's why we have so little time. Because unlike anyone, even Draco, Ginny will be easier to manipulate—easier to transform. And ten times more powerful, because the evil was once a part of her."

"Invited in, by her own will. There will always be a darkness within her. It will never go away—and the Dark Lord will be counting on that."

"And she's powerful," said Hermione quietly. "Ginny's the strongest witch in her class. She might well be one of the strongest witches of her age."

"She is perfect in every particular—the Dark Lord could not have chosen a better child. And I could not have given him one. The only hope you have is to get there before the ceremony."

"Where will it be?" said Ron harshly.

"I do not know…none of us knew. We were to follow him there."

"Draco will want to be a part of this—you do know that, don't you?" said Harry.

Narcissa frowned. "You will find him at the Manor. But if anything happens to him…"

"We'll all be dead by that point anyway," said Harry coldly. "I don't think you have anything to threaten us with."

She smiled. "I suppose not. You are very much like your Mother, Harry Potter. Admirable, but foolish too."

"And you are very much like your son."

She stepped back from them. "From a mother to a son, as you have no one left to say such things to you—be careful. I'm certain it's what your Mother would tell you."

"I'm certain she would too…among many other things," replied Harry. Mrs. Malfoy stood back, her face looking rather careworn, and tossed a small stone towards them. It was a delicately engraved brooch, carved with the letters "NB".

"Please," said Mrs. Malfoy suddenly. "Please take care of my son."

Harry nodded at her. "I will do my best, Mrs. Malfoy. I owe him my life, and the lives of everyone around me. He deserves, if nothing else, to be given the same respect."

Hermione bent down, towards the brooch. "Harry?"

He glanced at her one more time, her pale blue eyes watching as they gathered together, her face tilted to the side as she slid back into the shadows of the crooked trees.

"Come on, said Harry, clasping Ron's shoulder, and taking their brooms in his other. Ron grabbed Hermione's hand and she lifted the brooch quickly towards them, allowing them all to place a hand on it before the familiar tugging sensation pulled at their middles, spinning them away from the graveyard.

----------------

Draco winced as the sucking sensation subsided, and he spiraled forward in an arcing circle, his cloak whirling behind him, sliding across a very familiar parquet floor.

He slid to a stop, feeling slightly dizzy as he raised his head.

The chandeliers of the Malfoy's grand ballroom came into focus, and he raised his head.

_The Manor…how did I…_

"_I'm sorry, Draco…"_

His Mother's voice came flooding back into his head.

_I warned you once before. Just like with your aunt. I'm sorry…Goodbye…_

Someone popped up beside him—a House Elf…Kreacher? He'd been carrying a wrapped bundle.

A bundle with his own face…

Narcissa had whispered '_Lumos_ _Solemnia_ _Solara'. _The Fireburst spell.

Something cool and hard in his hand. That awful pulling sensation…

He leapt to his feet, the realization hitting him.

A Portkey!

And Ginny was with the Dark Lord!

He flung the doors of the ballroom. "Teenesia! Archibald!"

The Manor was deserted. His voice echoed through the halls.

"TEENESIA!"

He bolted upstairs, flinging open the doors of his suite. Everything was as he had left it hours before. "TEENESIA!"

Panic coursed through him, his heart beating rapidly, his breath coming in gasps.

He raced up to the Night Wing, flinging open the doors of the Saniescamara. "TENNY! ARCHIBALD! Where the devil are you!"

"MALFOY!"

A familiar voice rang through the halls of the house. He stopped, listening for a moment. It was a voice he never expected would grace his family's hallways.

"MALFOY!"

Draco raced from the Night Wing, towards the massive stairway that led up from the foyer. Halfway down, a figure walked into view of the wall hangings, staring up at him as he took the steps two at a time.

Ron Weasley crossed his arms. Behind him, Hermione Granger was staring at the house with her mouth open. And behind her…

Potter moved around Granger. "Malfoy. So your are alive."

"What are YOU doing here?"

Potter's emerald eyes flashed. "We came to find you, you prat. Your Mother told us she saved you."

Draco felt the blood rush to his face. "She didn't save me…she gave me no choice."

"Whatever she gave you…you're still alive. And Ginny is…"

"WHAT CONCERN OF YOURS IS IT WHAT GINNY IS?"

"SORRY?" Potter screamed in return. "ONE OF MY BEST FRIENDS IS IN THE HANDS OF VOLDEMORT BECAUSE OF YOU! AND TO THINK I ACTUALLY FELT SORRY YOU WERE DEAD!"

"I DON'T NEED YOU TO FEEL SORRY FOR ME YOU STUPID SCARHEAD!"

"SHUT UP!" shouted Weasley suddenly, shoving an arm in front of Potter's chest. "WE DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS. FROM EITHER OF YOU. MY SISTER IS IN THE ARMS OF THE DARK LORD RIGHT THIS SECOND, AND IT'S BOTH OF YOUR FAULTS!"

Draco felt as though someone had punched him. Weasley's eyes were red. Granger came over to him a laid a hand on his shoulder.

Potter looked shell-shocked. "Ron…"

Weasley shook his head. "It's all our faults. We all should have figured she'd do something like this. We all helped her get there. We're all to blame. And now, she might…" he sniffed.

"Where…where have they gone?" asked Draco, suddenly feeling exhausted. He moved over to one of the ornate, decorative chairs lining the hall. "Do you know?"

"We came to get you, because we knew you'd want to be a part of this," said Granger softly. "We hoped you might have an idea of where they'd gone. Your mother couldn't tell us."

"I don't know," said Draco, a hint of nervousness touching his voice. "I have no idea. I knew as far as the Riddle graveyard, no more."

Weasley turned from them, raising a hand to his eyes. Granger watched him for a moment.

"Please," she said, turning to him. "You have to know something."

"Well, I DON'T," he said harshly. His tone softened as her eyes filled with tears. "Do you really think if I knew where Ginny was I'd be waffling here? I have no idea what the Dark Lord intended to do with us once the ceremony had begun. I don't even know what happened after."

"I think they apparated away," said Ron, turning back to them. His large nose was red and splotchy. They had a stone at the center of the graveyard, but we touched it without any effect. It wasn't a Portkey."

"A mass apparition?" asked Potter. "Is that possible?"

"With dark magic anything is possible," said Draco. "Their Death Eater marks allow a connection that is unlike anything else. It allows the Dark Lord to control them beyond just a method of communication."

"Why wouldn't they have completed the ceremony at the Riddle graveyard, though?" asked Granger suddenly. "Why go somewhere else?"

"I don't know," said Draco. "I knew nothing more than where we were appearing. I didn't even know about the Veritaserum…"

"If you had, would it have changed anything?" asked Potter.

"I don't know," answered Draco slowly. "But the moment I saw Ginny had arrived, I would not have stayed. I would have risked getting caught." He lowered his head. "At that point, I would have had nothing to lose. If only my Mother had told me…"

"But she didn't," said Ron. "She lured Ginny there instead. To save you."

"Lured Ginny?"

"She convinced your House Elf to tell Ginny where the ceremony was going to be, and she left the rest up to Ginny. She knew Ginny would come."

"My Mother planned this?"

"She also killed a man in your stead. Probably in front of the Death Eaters, to make them think she'd killed you."

He stared at the floor. "I'm not surprised by that. Not surprised at all."

"We're wasting time, standing here," said Potter suddenly. "We have to start looking."

"But where?" asked Granger. "We don't even know where Professor Dumbledore is!"

"I think I know someone—something—that might," said Draco suddenly. He turned to Potter. "But I need your help."

The trio of friends stared at him.

"What?"

"Come on. We don't have time to waste." He started off to the doors of the Manor.

Potter and the rest ran after him, their brooms in tow. "Wait a minute, Malfoy!" shouted Potter. "Just where are we going?"

Draco whirled to face him. "That's what you have to tell me."

-----------------

Harry felt the familiar, sinking sensation creeping upon his heart as he swung open the doors to number 12 Grimmauld Place.

Nothing much had changed since he'd last set foot in here, just a few days ago, but what seemed like ages. The halls were still covered with the half-cleaned cobwebs Mrs. Weasley had attempted to remove when they'd stayed with the Order that brief time during his trial. The picture of Mrs. Black hung silently upon the wall, covered with the hanging. Harry wondered what she would do if she came face to face with Malfoy. Would he be a traitor, or would he be a hero? How much did pictures know?

"Where is he?" asked Malfoy.

Harry shrugged. "I can call him. Kreacher! Kreacher, come!"

They waited for a moment.

"You don't even know where your own House Elf goes?" asked Malfoy snidely, his arms crossed.

"Kreacher's not my House Elf," said Harry.

"He's not—didn't the traitor leave the house to you?"

Harry narrowed his eyes. "How should I know?"

"And why should that matter?" asked Hermione.

"Because House Elves come with the property. If the House is yours, Kreacher is yours."

"Then why was your Mother able to command him?"

"Because you never told him to disobey her," replied Malfoy casually. "House Elves can have their own free will under the eyes of their masters, so long as no order prevents them. And even then they might defy it. Look at Dobby."

"Dobby's free, which is exactly what they should _all_ be," said Hermione.

"No one _asked _ you."

"Look, can we stop this, _please_?" said Ron, a strange, strangled desperation in his voice. "Bickering amongst ourselves isn't going to help find Kreacher better, and its not going to help get Ginny back…isn't that right, _Draco?_"

Harry, Hermione and Malfoy stopped glaring at one another, all three turning to him in shock.

"What did you just call me?"

"Draco. That's your name, isn't it, Malfoy?"

"Why…"

"That's our bargain. You address me civilly, and I and everyone else will do the same, and we all remember why we're attempting this little truce."

"You must be joking…"

"Ginny_. Ginny_." Ron said pointedly. "Ginny."

Malfoy's face twisted for a moment, then he sighed. "Fine. _RON._ But I can't do it for Potter, it just won't work."

Harry grimaced. "Same for me."

"Hermione, then?"

Draco thought for a moment, crossing his arms. Granger looked at him with a quizzical face, though her eyes looked slightly sad.

"Fine," he said offhandedly. "Hermione then."

Hermione blushed pink. "Thanks."

"Good. Now, what do you need Kreacher for?"

"He was working for more than just my Mother. He might know where we should start to look."

"Then let's find him," said Harry, suddenly calm. "KREACHER! APPEAR, RIGHT NOW!"

A strange sulfur smell filled the air, and Kreacher appeared, bowed low, observing the group with a hateful eye.

"Kreacher is beckoned, yes, summoned by the hateful…"

"Shut up," said Malfoy harshly. "Where did the Dark Lord take Ginny Weasley?"

"He asks a question, he who failed the Dark Lord, his family…"

"Just answer the question," said Harry harshly, as Malfoy colored dark red.

"He takes her to where those who have gone before have yet to go again. Where those who have been do not know they have been, and those who have seen will never seek to find again. They who sit in the shadows will never go out of the shadows—only through one shall the light cover, and only through one shall it reveal."

There was silence for a moment.

"What?" said Ron.

Malfoy stared at Harry for a moment. Harry shrugged. "I've never been to or heard of such a place."

Hermione was gathering up her broom. "Let's go."

The three boys turned to her, staring.

"Thank you, Kreacher," she said politely, and tossed Harry the Firebolt. "I know what he's speaking of."

Kreacher looked repulsed. "She addresses me, she…"

Ron grabbed the house elf by his arm and flung him into the side hall closet.

"RON."

He shrugged. "When someone from the Order gets back they can let him out."

Hermione observed him with pursed lips.

"Where are we going?" asked Harry.

"Hogwarts," she said. "Which you would know, if any of you would ever bother to _finish_ 'Hogwarts, A History'."

----------------------------

"Shadow Grove."

"The _what?_"

"The Shadow Grove," said Hermione with a sniff, as they moved towards the Dark Forest. They'd covered ground in remarkable time, Flooing to the Shrieking Shack, then taking a tunnel from there to the Whomping Willow, right on the outskirts of the Dark Forest, where they were now heading.

"Hogwarts used to have less-than-agreeable wizards, you know," Hermione was saying superiorly. If this was the way she always explained things she knew, Draco didn't understand how Potter and Weasley managed to hang around her all the time.

"—the Chamber of Secrets demonstrates that—and they had a sacrificial grove designed for use of Dark Arts. It is called the Shadow Grove because no matter where in it you move, at whatever time of day, you are in shadows, except for the very center—which only has room for one person to be in the light.

"Students are prevented from going to it, of course—its near the center of the Dark Forest, so naturally students wouldn't find it—but if you read 'Hogwarts, A History', it tells you all about it.

"But how do you know how to find it?" asked Potter, as they neared the half-giant's hut. He tossed his Firebolt alongside the stoop. "What made you think of it?"

"Think about it—'where those who have been before have yet to go again'—that's because the Shadow Grove was concealed with unplottable charms and misdirection spells and a disguise hex. The only way to know about it is to have been there before, and know its purpose. If you don't, it just looks like a group of trees—'those who have not been do not know they have been'.

"And most importantly," she said imperiously, "once you've been to the Shadow Grove, you become immune to the spells. 'Those who have seen will never seek to find again'—they won't seek to find it, because they already know where it is."

"That being the case," said Ron rather snittily, "how are WE going to find the grove, since we've never been, and as its unplottable, we can't just stumble upon it?"

"There are ways around unplottable," returned Hermione hotly. "And as there will be a great bunch of Death Eaters hanging around it, it seems as though it might be rather difficult to miss, doesn't it?"

Ron pursed his lips.

Draco sighed as they marched ahead, Hermione leading the way, wand raised. Potter followed her, looking determined, and Weasley came behind. They were moving into the shadows of the Dark Forest. Draco had been here many times, most recently on a hunting expedition—he'd been hunting Potter and Hermione, hoping to catch them in the act of breaking school rules so severely Professor Dumbledore would be forced to expel them.

All he'd gotten was a chase from a great giant, and an armful of Ginny Weasley.

The ledge they'd tumbled down was a few miles away, on the other side of the forest entrance. He remembered quite clearly the expression on her face as he told her he was going to get her friends in trouble. He also remembered the smile she'd given him as she left him, petrified, in the middle in the forest, at the mercy of whatever was prowling the night.

It was then he'd learned that the people who followed Harry Potter weren't necessarily cake and icing. They had a hard side too—a strong side, one that could have been used by the Death Eaters, had they elected to go that way.

But Ginny never would, because her heart had chosen another path. It had chosen to follow Potter, and fight against the Dark Lord.

Or it had, until it had chosen him. Chosen him above anything else, even her own soul.

This whole thing was his fault, because he'd been too confused, too uncertain, to decide where he truly belonged. He knew now, that despite the loyalty he felt for his family, he should have stayed with Ginny. He should have believed in _her_, because she was the only person in the world who had chosen _him,_ above everything else. What he'd yelled at her so many times—that she wouldn't have to give up her family—it wasn't necessarily true. She would have to contend with their disappointment at having a Malfoy in the family. There would be difficulty and mistrust, no matter where she went or who she associated with. She'd known all this, but had told him that what he was didn't matter to her—she'd have lived with it all, just to be near him.

He hadn't given her the same kind of love in return. He would always love his family, love who he was, but he loved her more. He should have known that from the beginning.

And now, he was in danger of losing everything. Not just his family—he'd lost them already—but the one thing, the only thing, that ever really mattered.

"Malfoy?"

Potter's face appeared through the shadows, watching him. "Come on."

He nodded, pushing forward to catch up. As he passed by, Potter whispered, "don't let your guard down. No matter what they do."

Rather than sneer, as he might have, Draco only nodded. In the end, he was going to have to admit, at some point, Potter was right about something. Might as well be this.

-------------------

Hermione sighed, lowering her wand. "That's the last countercurse I can think of. Everything should be down, but we still can't see the grove."

Ron patted her shoulder. "I'm sure there is just something we're missing. You've done really well."

She smiled. "Thanks, Ron."

"We're near the center of the forest," said Potter, checking his wand, which had been enchanted with a direction spell. "It has to be around her somewhere."

"If we can't see it, how did the others find it?" asked Draco.

Hermione shrugged. "If only one of them knows where it's at, then they could guide the others."

Draco thought back to Grimmauld Place. _They who sit in the shadows will never go out of the shadows—only through one shall the light cover, and only through one shall it reveal..._

_Only through one…._

"Wait a minute…Hermione, do you know the moonlight spell—the one that calls moonlight to you?"

"Yes," she said slowly. "But…"

"Call it to you," he said firmly.

She looked at him questioningly, but raised her arm to the sky. "_Lumos_ _Luna_."

The moonlight, just as he'd seen with his mother, pooled towards her, gathering like a halo around her thin form.

"Now point," he said, directing his own wand at the forest. "Channel the light."

She lowered her wand immediately, her face registering understanding.

The beam of light followed her wand, focused through the point like a searchlight. It scanned over the trees ahead of them, weaving through the branches, casting bursts in patches across the forest.

At one clump, hidden thickly in shadows, the beam of light didn't course through the trees, but bent, into a perfect arc, around the grove.

"Go!" Draco yelled, pushing Potter forward. Ron crashed through the trees ahead of them, working into the moonlight still cast from Hermione's wand, and disappeared into the trees.

Draco felt a strange sort of thickness as he followed them, like he was being squeezed through a small crack. The tightness subsided, and he emerged into a clearing that was completely silent. Potter and Weasley were up ahead, glancing around.

Hermione appeared behind him, her face glowing. "That was…that was really, really clever, Draco," she said. "It would have taken me ages to figure that out."

Ron looked at them sharply, and gestured with his wand. "There are prints leading this way."

Potter took the lead, Weasley the rear. They followed the broken branches and bent leaves deeper into the forest—a path that was dotted in thin, gray trees and very little underbrush. An uneasy mist settled on them, weaving through the thin trunks as though it had a mind of its own.

A long, low howl reverberated from somewhere within the darkness of the trees.

"Gytrash," said Potter. Hermione swallowed, reaching for Weasley's hand.

There was a wall of black coming up ahead. A low sound, like a muffled roar, was echoing through the trees. Hermione's eyes widened, and she approached the black wall cautiously.

"Wow," she whispered. "These are Brovac trees. More than one thousand years old."

She laid a hand on the wall—a dark, pulsing piece of wood.

_A Tree…_

Draco scanned the branches. The trunk was so thick, it could have been one of the Hogwarts towers. At the top, small, fat branches curled into ugly knots, waving slightly in a non-existent breeze.

"How do we get past?" asked Potter.

Hermione followed the base around, until she found the end. She gestured to the group, and they followed, sliding themselves between the fat, ancient trunks. The tree seemed to creak and moan with displeasure.

Overhead, their branches arched forward, and Draco got a first look at their gigantic leaves, cut to shadow the center of the grove. Long, thin fronds, with creases in them like old fingers, ruffled, lying neatly leaf to leaf, letting not one drop of light through, save for the center of the grove, where an open hole allowed moonlight to pour atop a gigantic, carved stone.

Weasley motioned forward.

At the far end of the grove, gathered in a mass, were the cloaked figures of the Death Eaters. They appeared to be huddling together.

Draco searched the rest of the grove quickly. There was no sign of the Dark Lord.

Beside him, there was a small gasp.

He edged around Hermione as she stood perfectly still, staring at something in the shadows barely twenty feet away from them.

Draco's long fingers closed over her mouth, and he pulled her back into the deep shadows of the trunk, nodding at Potter to do the same. Potter caught his eye, then grabbed Weasley by his robes and yanked him backward silently.

The Dark Lord was leaning upon another trunk, swaddled in a cloak, only the red of his dark eyes showing beneath his hood. A bundle lay at his feet—Ginny, wrapped in a Death Eater's robe, her flaming red hair spread around her, unconscious on the ground.

Weasley struggled with Potter, but Potter shook his head, clutching tightly to his friend.

Draco released Hermione, and she clutched his arm, trembling. They were within feet of the Dark Lord—within feet of Ginny—but Draco knew they couldn't just burst upon him and hope to escape alive.

Ginny stirred, her face twisting slightly. The Dark Lord bent to her.

Draco felt his stomach turn. _Have they performed the ceremony already? Is she already his? Is he just waiting for her to…_

Hermione pulled them even further backwards, deeper into the shadows of the trees, as a sudden light filled the grove. The moonlight had reached a point where it was directly above the forest, and it lit the area with eerie, incandescent shadows.

The stone in the center of the grove began to sparkle. Quartz, and mica, buried within the stony surface, turned the moonlight into glittering daggers of refracted light.

The Dark Lord bent to Ginny, lifting her in his arms, and moved towards the center.

Potter had Weasley in a death grip, holding back his taller friend as much as he could. Hermione was clutching Draco's arm so tightly it was going numb.

The mass of Death Eaters watched as the Dark Lord placed her atop the stone, lying her sideways so that her red hair tumbled off the edge.

Draco clenched a fist, fighting the urge to burst out into the center of the mass.

The Death Eaters gathered around in a semi-circle, their voices filling the grove with a low, indiscriminate sound. Hermione reached out and pulled Potter close, whispering hastily while keeping one eye on the group.

"They haven't begun the ceremony yet, obviously. They must have needed it to be at a particular time."

"What can we do?" asked Potter, still clutching the back of Weasley's robes. "We can't take on a group of Death Eaters ourselves."

"We might be able to create a diversion," said Hermione. "Ron and I can go to the back of the forest and cause a stir. That would make quite a few of the Death Eaters abandon the Grove."

"That's extremely dangerous," said Potter, looking worried. "If they catch you…"

"They won't," she said with a trembling smile. "But what you might do…"

"I'll face the Dark Lord," said Draco. "You get Ginny."

"No," said Potter.

"Potter…this is no time to play the hero."

"You're right," said Potter. "This isn't the time. If Voldemort faces you, you'll be killed instantly. But he can't kill me—if I can get my wand raised in time, he can't hurt me with any spells."

"What?"

Hermione watched him, her face set in a frown. "The Priori Incantatem—do you think it will work again?"

"Priori…_Incantatem_?"

"A locking of wands," whispered Potter. "My wand and Voldemort's share the same core—phoenix feathers, both from Fawkes, Professor Dumbledore's phoenix. The last time we stood face to face, our wand cores locked and he couldn't attack me."

"But you only held him at bay, Harry. He's a great deal stronger, now."

"So am I," he said determinedly. "None of us here can defeat the Dark Lord right now. But at least I can find a way to hold him until we can try and escape safely."

"And how do we do that?" asked Draco. "It's not like we have our brooms."

Potter looked at him squarely. "How do you think?"

"If we're going to do something," hissed Weasley, "can we start right now?"

He motioned ahead. The Death Eaters had become still, and the Dark Lord was standing over Ginny, his hand in the air. Potter nodded, and Hermione and Ron scrambled off, towards the far end of the grove, careful to stay out of the light.

"Just take care of her, okay?" Harry said softly, as they moved forward.

Draco frowned. "I will."

The stone beneath the moonlight was still sparkling in the moonlight, making the coils of Ginny's hair glitter golden. One of the Death Eaters moved forward. His arm was clutched peculiarly to his side.

"Pettigrew," hissed Potter.

He moved forward, next to the Dark Lord, followed by two other Death Eaters. One of the two reached a pale hand towards the Dark Lord, handing him a knife.

"My father," said Draco.

The Dark Lord bent over Ginny, drawing the knife close to her skin. Both Draco and Potter tensed as he brought it close to her face.

His ancient hands drew up her arm, bending her palm forward. With a sharp movement, faster than Draco could comprehend, he sliced the blade across the center of her hand.

Draco was up in a moment, but Potter grabbed him, yanking him backwards, and holding him tightly.

"We can't take them all on," he said softly in Draco's ear. "Wait until Ron and Hermione…"

Draco tried to shake free. "How can you watch as he…"

"Because I've seen him do a lot worse," said Potter, releasing him slowly.

Ginny moaned. The Dark Lord let her blood slide across her hand, dripping down upon the rock. He twisted the knife, revolving the blade, and took it across his own hand, letting the dark liquid drop down.

The third Death Eater moved forward, holding up a silver urn. The Dark Lord took it from him, squeezing his own blood into it, then holding up Ginny's palm, and allowing the blood to flow down, mingling with his own.

Draco glanced to the trees behind the Death Eaters.

_Where are Granger and Weasley?_

The Dark Lord turned to the group. "Who comes?"

The group in front of him stayed silent for a moment.

He raised his wand, his eyes burning. "Who comes?"

Still the Death Eaters remained silent. The Dark Lord raised his wand.

"Then I WILL CHOOSE!"

The group before him seemed to bow in unison, moving away from the point of his wand.

"I," said someone suddenly.

Draco watched the Death Eater curiously as they moved forward. There was something terribly familiar about the voice.

The Dark Lord observed the hooded figure. "Do you come completely?"

"I do."

"Why?"

"In honor of my Dark Lord. In honor of my parents. In honor of all we value." The Death Eater slipped off her hood. A tumble of brown hair fell forward, onto the small shoulders.

Draco's eyes widened.

_Pansy!_

The Dark Lord grinned, darkly. "You are the most loyal of all. Your sacrifice shall not be forgotten."

Draco watched, horrified, as Pansy repositioned her cloak. Her face was tear-stained, though her eyes were strong. "Yes, my Lord. I have nothing to lose, but everything to gain."

She turned her gaze towards Ginny. "Nothing to lose."

"No…" Draco started to rise. Potter grabbed his arm.

"We can't…Ginny," he said, his voice pleading.

Draco turned to him, trying to yank his arm away, and stopped when he caught a glimpse of the expression on Potter's face.

He seated himself back down. The knot in his chest was tightening.

_Please…please Pansy. Please…_

The Dark Lord raised his wand. "_Avada_ _Kedavra_."

Potter turned his head. His fingers gripped Draco's arm.

Draco watched, watched as the curse struck Pansy, her arms flinging out by her side, her head tilting backwards, her form folding limply beneath.

He bit his lip, his fists clenched tightly, his nails digging into his hands. Blood pooled into his mouth, but he refused to look away.

Pansy tumbled to the ground, her long brown hair spilling around her. Her face wore no expression.

Two of the Death Eaters in the crowd began to whimper; one tumbled to the ground, a long thin hand clutching at her neck.

Draco struggled to keep himself still. Tears were rolling down Harry's cheeks.

The Dark Lord stared at the body for a moment, his face bearing a satisfied grin.

"_Exsanguise."_

Pansy's body lifted from the ground. Her skin began to pulsate, rippling across the top. Tiny, miniscule droplets began to stream from it, pulling at Pansy's skin, covering her in red.

_Blood…_

The blood pooled in the air, streaming towards the large silver urn. It splashed inward, filling to the brim.

Pansy's body lay, cold and pale, and suddenly still.

The Dark Lord grabbed the urn, a smile touching his lips. He raised it above his head, and splashed the mingled blood over himself, then turned, splashing it over Ginny.

Draco's breath caught. Ginny stirred uncomfortably.

The Dark Lord raised his wand.

"S_ocietatem coire bicorporis unanimous…_"

Potter stiffened beside him. The wand of the Dark Lord began to pulsate.

Sparks from the rock started to break off, gleaming, moving upwards in a tall column that extended over the tops of the trees. The light glowed red.

The Death Eaters fell back, save from the three that accompanied the Dark Lord by the rock. The remainder raised their wands.

"_Unanimous_…_unanimous_…"

Beams of light began to fill the grove, shooting from the ends of the Death Eaters' wands.

Ginny stirred. Draco had his wand in a death grip.

The Death Eaters suddenly lowered their wands, aiming directly upon the center of the Dark Lord's back.

Draco's eyes widened. Potter, still kneeling beside him, looked just as surprised.

Lord Voldemort arched back in pain, his arms stretching up to the sky. His wand trembled in his long fingers. A strange, strangled cry escaped from his lips.

A black mass of light began to glow around him; he pulled his wand forwards, towards the center of his chest.

"_Societatem coire bicorporis…_" he rasped.

"_Unanimous…Unanimous…_" chanted the Death Eaters.

A red, smoky haze began to draw from his chest. The blood that covered him was pulling from him, mixing with his own blood—

…_No…his own soul…_

"Like a pensieve…" said Potter.

The beam of light shining upon him from the Death Eaters' wands began to glow brighter. The Dark Lord bent over, his body writhing in pain, but his wand remained pointed at his chest. The cloud of red smoke began to solidify.

"We have to go!" hissed Draco. "Where _are_ they?"

Potter remained focused on the Dark Lord.

"_Un…unani…unanimousss…"_ he wheezed.

The red object formed into a huge, slithering snake. It pulled from him, separating from his chest by everything but a single strong thread of light. He bent over, his face contorted, as the serpent circled slowly in the air.

The light shining on the Dark Lord covered him. Draco squinted, trying to shadow his eyes. The Dark Lord was nearly howling, but he kept his wand steady.

The snake above him curled, writhing in the air.

"UNANIMOUS," he roared.

Draco and Harry both turned, shielding their faces from the light. The snake arced upward, forming into a perfectly solid entity. The snake hissed, showing large fangs, pausing. The Dark Lord lowered his wand, and the snake dove downwards.

Right into the center of Ginny's chest.

Draco screamed and shot upwards. He was vaguely aware of Potter rising beside him, charging to the center of the circle. A long, high-pitched wail was coming from the center of the circle, drowning out their voices. Ginny's back was arched, her eyes wide, howling in pain.

The Death Eaters began to turn as Draco flung curses their way. Many of them started in shock, their surprise at his presence making them incapable of retaliating. The ancient hexes, many of which had been taught to him by some of these very wizards, now brought groups of them to their knees.

Behind them, a large, white light exploded, and two huge balls of fire shot from the other side of the trees, knocking masses of the Death Eaters off their feet. Flames rose from the other side of the forest, curling around the gigantic, ancient Brovac trunks.

The Death Eaters flew apart in chaos. Draco shoved his way through the mass as they dove for cover, hexing anyone who tried to stop him. A large, glittering Phoenix flew gracefully over the group, sending waves of Death Eaters scrambling for the trees.

Potter was working his way alongside Draco, towards the center, where the Dark Lord remained standing, his focus still on the snake that was working its way into Ginny's chest. The blood that had covered her was digging like needles into her skin, working into her body, turning the pale, white skin a jagged pink.

He was nearing the center.

Draco felt something hit him hard in the stomach, and he stumbled to the ground, falling to one knee.

"You've made some terrible choices, Draco," hissed a cold voice. "But I never believed you were capable of _this_."

Draco raised his head. His father was staring down at him, his wand pointed at Draco's head. "You've defied the Dark Lord for the last time."

Potter was near the center of the circle, battling his way through the remaining Death Eaters.

"No, Father," coughed Draco. "I'm defying _you_ for the _first_ time. _Expelliarmus!_"

His Father's wand shot out of his hand. Lucius glared at Draco as Draco rose to his feet. "Why don't we see what it feels like, shall we?" he hissed coldly. "_Crucio_."

Draco's father stumbled to the ground, bending beneath the curse. His eyes opened widely, his mouth screaming without sound. Draco stood tall, his wand pointed fiercely, focused.

_Feel it, Father. Know what it feels like…_

"DRACO!"

Potter was yelling at him, trying to break past the one Death Eater who remained to guard the Dark Lord. Pettigrew stood just behind him, looking weakly from at the pair struggling in front of him, as though he wanted to do something but felt incapable of it.

Draco turned, his eyes widening. The Dark Lord had not moved, despite the chaos unfolding behind him. He was intensely focused, his wand grasped in two hands, his body straining under the power of controlling the serpent.

Ginny was writhing, her face horribly contorted. Her screams were soundless now, and the light that shown around her was turning blood red. The snake was halfway through her chest.

Draco broke the spell, leaving his father behind, and raced towards the Dark Lord. The Death Eater Potter had been struggling with fell suddenly, and Potter broke towards them, his wand raised.

Weasley and Hermione had entered the grove, downing Death Eaters. Behind them, powerful spells were booming from outside the trees.

Somehow, The Order of the Phoenix had found them. Dumbledore had arrived.

Draco hurtled to the Dark Lord. Pettigrew hissed suddenly, jumping towards him. Draco felt something incredibly heavy slam into his shoulder, and he fell to the ground. The lumpy, rat-like man leapt at him, clawing at Draco's arm, reaching for his wand.

"No…" Draco struggled with him, rolling through the dirt, scratching at the man's beady little eyes. Pettigrew's mousy teeth were bared.

"Get off me you disgusting excuse for a RAT!" Draco screamed, his fist finding the man's pointed nose. Pettigrew fell backwards, whimpering. Draco scrambled for his wand, sitting up and pointing it towards Pettigrew.

"_Petrificus__Totalus_!"

He didn't bother to see if the spell had worked completely or not. He scrambled to his feet, bolting towards Ginny and the stone.

The snake was almost gone; Ginny's face wore a look of wearied despair. In the distance, the Order was racing towards them, Dumbledore towards the front. He was screaming something.

Potter was within casting distance of the Dark Lord. He hurled a spell towards him. The spell slammed into the back of the dark wizard's robes, and rebounded toward Potter. He swung his wand, a shield spell protecting him.

"INTERPOSITUM!"

A loud voice boomed through the nearly empty grove. Dumbledore stood at the opposite end, his wand pointed at Ginny. The Dark Lord's eyes widened, and he snarled viciously.

"AEROADENSO!"

Ginny was writhing on the stone. Dumbledore's spell cut through the air, then suddenly slowed, drifting into a smoky cloud of thin light.

Draco turned, desperately straining to reach her. The air around him suddenly seemed thicker than syrup. His lungs were burning. Potter was on his feet, pushing through the mist, straining as though he were being blocked by something.

The serpent's tail was digging downwards. A red light began to shine from Ginny's eyes, tears streaming down her face, tinted red with blood.

With a loud cry, Potter reached the Dark Lord, his arms grasping around, pulling at the decrepit body. Both went down in a heap, the connection of Voldemort's wand and the stream of red from his chest suddenly breaking.

Ginny's shrieks burst suddenly through the grove. They were deafening. The snake was dancing out of her chest, making a strange, hollow sound.

Out of the back side of the rock, beneath her, the serpent's head suddenly appeared, as flimsy as smoke. It was leaving her.

"FLAMINUS!"

Potter suddenly flew across the grove, sliding on his side with a loud cry. The Dark Lord was staring at him in pure hate, his eyes wide and flaming red.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Draco turned in horror as the spell flew from the Dark Lord's wand.

Potter raised his head, his black hair flying away from his face. He raised his wand. "_Obstructum_…"

The shield spell shot out of Potter's wand, connecting with the green burst of light flying towards him. The two streams met in a gigantic burst, their connection feeding back to the points of the wand tips. The sound of a Phoenix call echoed through the grove, its clear, beautiful melody creating a streaming cage of light around the two spell casters. Draco watched in amazement as the Dark Lord howled in rage, and Potter stood, grabbing his wand with both hands, using all his strength to hold back the Dark Lord's spell, which was now pulsating up and down the line, struggling against the shield spell he'd cast just moments ago.

"DRACO!"

Ron Weasley was running towards him, ignoring the imposing site of the Priori Incantatem. "DRACO!"

Draco turned, heading back towards the makeshift alter. Ginny was writhing on the stone, her screams drowned out by the song of the Phoenix. He rushed towards her, stuffing his wand in his cloak.

"Ginny…"

As he neared, the snake reared up, its head flowing foggily through the back end of the stone. Its large mouth snapped at Draco, its fangs visible, dripping foggy, poisonous mist.

He swished his arm around, waving through the mist, trying to reach Ginny.

The snake struck forward with a blinding speed, its large fangs bared. Draco howled in pain as they slammed into his shoulder. He bent down, gathering Ginny in his arms, and yanked her forward, ignoring the blinding pain in his arm and chest.

The snake arched upwards, a large, cold hiss echoing through it. Its long tail, the tip still extending from Ginny's chest, began to disperse. Ginny whimpered. The light around her began to fade, and a mist of red droplets poured from her skin, leaving thin, jagged scratches all over her body..

Draco gathered her into his arms, pulling her off the rock. Her head lulled dully by his side.

From the other side of the grove, the Dark Lord roared in pain. The cage surrounding he and Potter shattered, and he flew backwards, hit full force by the power of Potter's shield spell.

The snake finally dissolved, leaving behind a poisonous mist. Draco coughed, stumbling. The pain in his arm subsided slightly, but burning tingles still coursed through his chest.

Weasley reached him, helping to lift Ginny, and moving away from the cloud of red droplets that were swirling around the stone in the center.

"NOOO…"

The Dark Lord rose from his position on the grass, his eyes blazing. He raised his wand, pointing it straight at Ginny. "UNANIM…"

"EXPELLIARMUS!" yelled Potter.

The Dark Lord screamed, pushing himself off the ground with incredible strength. He aimed his wand at Potter once more, who'd risen to his feet, his green eyes blazing determinedly.

The Dark Lord's eyes widened. Dumbledore had come behind Harry, his own wand raised eye level, pointed at the Dark Lord.

Voldemort turned to Draco, his expression filled with pure hate. "You'll never be rid of me. You'll have to live with it as long as you live."

He narrowed his eyes. "As long as she lives."

Dumbledore fired a spell.

He disappeared.

"NO!" Harry cried, rushing over to where he'd been. "NO!"

Draco kneeled down on the ground as Potter and the rest searched the point from which Voldemort had apparated. He laid Ginny softly on the grass, raising her head as the rest of the Order searched through the grove.

One of them walked beside Pansy's body, using his wand to wrap her in her cloak, covering her face.

His father was nowhere to be seen, nor was Pettigrew. Somehow, they had escaped. The grove was beyond the power of Hogwarts.

Weasley was beside him, staring worriedly at his sister. Hermione came up behind them, her curly hair mussed, dirt and blood on her nose. "How is she?"

Ron shrugged, looking miserable. "It didn't go all the way through, but…"

Potter and Dumbledore marched up to where they were huddled, Potter looking upset.

"You did well, Harry," said Dumbledore softly, his blue eyes glancing over Draco, holding Ginny in his arms. "You all did well."

"What's happened to her?" asked Draco softly. "What did he do to her?"

They all glanced up at the Professor expectantly. He looked down at her, his eyes sad. "I'm not certain. I don't know what magic he evoked."

"But he didn't finish, right?" said Ron shakily. "Whatever he was trying to do, it didn't complete, did it?"

"We'll have to wait and see what happens when she wakes," said the Professor. "We have no idea what Lord Voldemort has caused. Even I am unfamiliar with this sort of incantation. It is magic of the darkest kind, along the line of a horcrux."

"Horcrux?" asked Harry.

"An evil greater than any we've ever known. Perhaps sometime later I'll explain it to you. Right now, we should get Miss Weasley to St. Mungos."

"St. Mungos? But we're at Hogwarts," sniffed Ron.

"I believe this is beyond Madame Pomfrey's power to cure. We need to take her somewhere they can truly look after her."

Draco lifted Ginny, watching her face as it pulled close to his shoulder. Her eyes were wearied, her mouth set in a deep frown. Tears streaked her cheeks, leaving trails of red down her pale skin.

Her hand fell over his arm, still stained with blood from where Lord Voldemort had cut her. The blade had run right across her tiny scar. The Slytherin snake and "P" were unrecognizable.

The knot in Draco's chest closed tightly around his throat. "Let's go."

---------------------

"OUCH."

"Well, you mustn't move it. If you do, it will only make it worse."

The tiny wizarding doctor stepped away from Draco, observing the bluish-purple color of the bruise that extended across his shoulder. His ancient little face, framed with a fuzz of steel gray hair, wobbled from side to side.

"This is a strange poison, but nothing that won't take a few days to cure. You must keep it still, though, and apply the Stinkweed Salve every four hours until the color starts to turn.

"Don't forget," he lectured. "Or you'll have a green shoulder for the rest of your life—unless, of course, you run into a Dragon."

"A dragon? What can a dragon do?"

"It can bite your shoulder off!" laughed the little wizard in a high pitched voice. "Then you wouldn't have to worry about its color, now, would you?'

Draco narrowed his eyes, and the little man sighed. "Very well. You're not in spirits, I see. Let me wrap you up."

A wave of his wand set a sling into place, and Draco leapt off the bed, very glad to be leaving.

"Every four hours," said the wizard, his lips pursed. "Don't forget."

_How could I? _Thought Draco. But he didn't deign to let this man know that. "Thanks."

The man snickered. "Never thought I'd hear that from a Malfoy."

Draco's face twisted, and he stomped from the room, slamming the door behind him.

_That PRAT! Ginny could have died tonight, and his world could have ended, and all he can do is make stupid jokes!_

He slapped the side of the cement wall, frowning.

_ And it's all my fault… _

The Halls of St. Mungo's felt stark and bare after the dim, shadowed lights of the grove. Everything that had happened only a few hours before felt like a dream. Despite what he'd seen, a part of him hoped it was just that, and that when Ginny woke up, none of them would remember any of this.

Ginny's bed was in the Emergency Ward, in a closed off area from the rest of the patients. As no one knew what might happen to her when she woke, they were keeping her away from the other wizards. Not for her safety, but for theirs.

_"I'm uncertain," _the chief wizard official had said. "_we don't know exactly what affect this might have. With her past history, there might be somethin' left within her. I can't really tell you, havin' only descriptions to go by. Only time will tell."_

Draco put a hand to his face. Memories of the battle coursed through his mind. His father, falling to his knees. Pansy's body, lying in the grass.

Ginny, writhing in pain.

A group of laughing young witches, more than likely nurses, turned the corner.

A sudden memory flashed before his eyes—of Ginny Weasley, towards the end of his sixth year, sticking her tongue out at him, her red hair flying around her face…

The laughter disappeared down the hall.

_You haven't killed anyone yet, have you? You're not your father, Draco…_

It was raining, outside the windows of the hospital. The water streaked across the glass. As it had in the hospital wing…

_Today, you got to be Draco. That is who you are…_

The Emergency Ward was silent, just a few wearied wizards seated in the chairs lining the Emergency Area hallways, looking distraught.

_That is what you mean to me. More than my own life. More than anything…_

_More than anything._

"So we have no idea?"

Potter's voice floated in from down the hall, seemingly strained. "There is no way to trace them…any of them?"

"Not immediately, Harry. This will take time, and right now, we have to be most concerned about Ms. Weasley and her condition." Professor Dumbledore said.

Draco slid through the door of the chamber, pushing aside the cotton curtain. The group turned to him.

"How's your arm?" asked Hermione.

"Fine. How's Ginny?"

Ron shook his head. "We still don't know. She hasn't woken."

He felt slightly out of breath, panic fluttering in his chest. "What do the doctors think?"

"Same as before," said Potter, his hands stuffed in his pockets. "We have to wait and see."

"I'm going in."

The three friends glanced at one another, but moved aside. Professor Dumbledore laid a hand on Draco's good shoulder. "Quietly. Let's not disturb her. Ginny will have to make her way back on her own. There is much before her, much before all of us. The Lion and the Serpent."

Draco nodded.

Ginny's bed was in the far end of the room, covered by a half-curtain. Draco approached it slowly, the trio and Dumbledore choosing to remain in the hall.

He felt a lump form in his throat as he gazed down at her.

On the surface, she seemed almost normal. Save for the tiny scratches upon her pale arms and legs, she was sleeping peacefully, all traces of the terrible pain she'd suffered seemingly gone. There was no scar on her chest, according to the doctors. It was as though she'd never been attacked by a snake at all—or anything else—at all.

Had it not been from the large mark on his shoulders, Draco might have believed it hadn't existed at all. He reached for her hand, stroking the fingers. There was a bandage wrapped around her palm.

_That is what you mean to me. More than my own life. More than anything._

"That's what you mean to me too. I'm sorry I didn't realize that sooner," he said softly. There were no 'whys' or 'hows' anymore. Nothing left but what needed to be said.

"I'm sorry."

There were frantic footsteps clicking down the hall, outside the door.

"ALBUS!"

Draco turned at the sound of the high-pitched voice. A few moments later the door swung open, and Molly Weasley burst into the room, followed by Ron, Hermione, Potter, Dumbledore, and Mr. Weasley.

"Ginny! Oh…" Mrs. Weasley rushed by him, pausing to cup his chin with her hand. "Oh, Draco dear, are you well? You're not hurt?"

She moved to Ginny's bedside, grabbing at Ginny's hand. "Ginny, dear…"

Draco raised his fingers to his cheek, where her hand had been. There had been nothing accusatory in her voice. She seemed genuinely concerned.

"She's not woken," he said softly. "I'm…I'm terribly sorry, Mrs. Weasley. So very sorry."

She turned to look at him. "None of this is your fault, Draco. Of course. What Ginny chose to do, she chose to do of her own free will. You did your best to bring her back. You should be proud of that."

Draco stared at her, his eyes wide. "Mrs. Weasley…"

She moved over to him, wrapping her arms about him. "There, there. Just calm yourself. Ginny's strong. She's a Weasley, and a fighter. She'll be alright."

She felt warm, and solid. So much warmer than he'd ever felt before.

His face crumpled.

She stroked his hair as he sobbed into her shoulder, leaning forward, into her jumper.

How long he stayed that way, he was uncertain, but when he finally glanced up he and Mrs. Weasley were seated on a hospital bed. The room was clear.

"What are we going to do, Mrs. Weasley?" asked Draco wearily, as she softly patted his shoulder.

"We'll take things one step at a time, dear. One step at a time. Beginning with Ginny waking up, and coming back to us."

He nodded.

"I'm going to speak with the nurses for a moment," said Mrs. Weasley. "You can stay in here with Ginny, right?"

"Of course," said Draco, moving to her bedside. "I'll be here when you return."

She smiled, her eyes crinkling. "Thank you, Draco."

He moved to the bedside, taking Ginny's hand in his, and laying his head upon the sheets, next to her side.

-------------

Harry sighed, leaning his chin upon the palm of his hand. Mrs. Weasley and Draco had been in Ginny's hospital room for what seemed like ages.

Hermione was sleeping, her head resting on Ron's shoulder. He was sleeping as well, snoring softly into her bushy hair.

The idea to attack with lightning bolts and beams of light had been hers; she and Ron had started their spellcasting only moments before the Order of the Phoenix had apparated into the grove, led by Harry's notes and Professor Dumbledore's own instinct as to where the gathering might be held.

Professor Dumbledore had listened intently to their description of the events as they had transpired, from the initial co-mingling of the blood, to the death of Pansy Parkinson, to Lord Voldemort's summoning of the massive, soul endowed snake.

He seemed puzzled, though, by the entire process.

"Honestly, a _much _darker magic," he said, "than I have ever heard of. This is ancient—beyond my time. I have no idea where Tom Riddle might have discovered this. It could be a trait passed down through Slytherin, but I know not where, or how. From wherever he learned this, however, we must be prepared. If he has gone to such lengths to protect himself, there is no telling what he might attempt next."

Harry shuddered, remembering Pansy Parkinson's willing sacrifice. He didn't know how Malfoy could stand watching. He'd felt terrible, holding him back, but he knew that the final choice would come down to their lives, or Pansy's.

_What if I have to make the same choice with my own friends?_

He stared for a moment at Hermione and Ron, sleeping so peacefully. If anything happened to them…

_I'm going to have to find a way to do this on my own—though I know they'll fight me on it._

"Harry."

He looked up. Mrs. Weasley had come out of Ginny's room. She looked slightly weary, her face careworn. "Dear…"

She embraced him, the same way she had embraced Malfoy before. He hugged her back. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Weasley, that we couldn't get there sooner."

"Don't be. I know you all tried your best. We can wish things weren't a particular way, but they are, and we must learn to live with them.

"I just wish," she said sadly, her voice breaking, "that we knew what it was we were having to live _with._"

"Even Professor Dumbledore's uncertain at this point," said Harry. "Nobody knows exactly what he did to Ginny. We'll have to wait and see what happens when Ginny wakes up. And be strong in the meanwhile."

Mrs. Weasley glanced at the door to Ginny's room. "Yes, I suppose we will." She straightened, dabbling at her eyes with a handkerchief. "Now…have you seen Arthur and the twins?"

"I think they went down to get something from the trolley."

"Right, Arthur had mentioned they hadn't eaten anything—though with _those two_ you just never know, they might be peddling tricks on the closed ward."

Harry smiled softly. It seemed ages since he'd smiled.

"Harry…"

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley?"

"How…how did Draco…did he…"

"He did everything he could, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry honestly. "Had he known Ginny was going to go to the gathering, I don't think he would have been there—or he would have made an effort to prevent her from being seen. And he fought as hard as anyone to reach her. There were things he had to give up in order to do so—but he gave them up, for Ginny."

"Thank you," said Mrs. Weasley, cupping her hand upon his face. "I'm going to check on Arthur and the boys, and try reaching Charlie again. If anything happens, one of you come and find me, right?"

"Yes, of course."

---------------------------

There was a dim light, shining somewhere through the darkness. It shone red, a bright, pulsating red, that seemed to split into two, and back into one, shimmering through the foggy black that enveloped everything.

Voices broke through the silence.

_…unanimous…unanimous…_

One voice was louder than the others.

"Unanimous. Unanimous. UNANIMOUS."

A high pitched shriek.

Waves of pain…the light was drawing closer.

Pulling…pulling…

A narrow face…narrowed eyes…red…

The voices were shouting at her; she tried covering her ears but she couldn't find her hands. She couldn't feel her lips, shouting.

It was writhing ahead of her—the snake…the blood red, venomous snake…

_No…please…no…no…NOOOOOOOOO!_

The world shuddered suddenly into view.

Ginny shot up from the bed, gasping to catch her breath. Her fingers clawed at her throat, at her chest.

The snake was gone.

Ron was sleeping, his red head lying upon the red sheets of her bed.

_No…the hair is straighter than Ron's…_

She stretched a hand out towards it.

And paused.

Her skin was pink.

She pulled her hand close to her face, then raised her eyes to rest of the room. Her breath caught in her throat.

Everything…_everything…_was red.

"What…what's going on?" she whispered.

The person who was sleeping stirred.

Draco Malfoy lifted his head, his eyes widening as he caught sight of Ginny sitting up in bed. She stared at him in horror.

_He…he can't be…he's dead!_

"GINNY!" He stood so quickly the stool he'd been sitting on flew back against the wall. "Ginny, are you…"

He moved closer to her, taking her hand. "Are you…all…"

He paused.

Her hand was trembling in his. She knew her eyes were wide, as she stared at his face.

_He's dead. His mother killed him. He's dead, and this is a hallucination I'm having. It has to be…why…how could he look this way? _

The boy standing before her wasn't human. His skin was completely pink, his eyes glowing a dull, shimmering red, like rubies. His normally platinum hair was as red as Ron's.

"Draco, what happened to you? What happened…" she studied his face—the wide, horrified eyes, the slightly parted mouth. His breath, his living breath, was coming in gasps.

The window was behind him, the glass glimmering in the early morning light. She stared at their reflections, Draco, standing tall beside her, and her own face, tinted pink, staring back.

Her eyes…her normally hazel eyes, were blood red.

Not red because she saw them that way—red for real, red for everyone to see. From the way Draco was staring at her face, he saw them too. He wasn't dead. He was alive. And he was standing in front of her now, horrified at the sight of her.

_It was real…the snake was real…_

"What happened to me?" she whimpered, pulling away from him. "What happened?"

"Ginny." He threw his arms about her. "It's my fault. I'm so sorry."

His closeness—his nearness, stirred something inside her.

_Traitor…_

His body was shaking as he held her. The voice in the back of her head, soothing, calmed her fluttering heart.

_He's a traitor…_

She wrapped her arms around him.

_Betrayer of his name…_

Draco stroked the back of her hair; it sent shivers up her spine.

_He left you behind…he left me behind._

Her hands moved up his back, to his face. When she pulled him away, his eyes, his red eyes, were shimmering.

_He tried to destroy us both…you nearly died because of him._

Her hands shaped his cheeks.

_No more…_

He was staring at her in confusion. "Ginny…are you alright?"

"Fine," she hissed softly.

His throat was bare. A silver prefect pin was pinned high on his cloak. She ran a finger over it, then up, to near his collar, where the perfect, pink-tinted skin peeped out.

The blood inside was pulsing.

"Ginny…" Draco had a vice grip on her arms. "Ginny, can you hear me?"

"Traitor," she said softly.

"What?"

"Betrayer of his name."

"GINNY." Draco was shaking her, glancing desperately towards the door. His voice was louder than normal.

Her hands traveled to his throat.

"_GINNY_!"

"You know the punishment, Draco," she said. Her voice sounded peculiar, odd—strangled and low and harsh. "You know the reward."

His eyes widened.

Her hands closed around his throat.

He was clawing at her arms, trying to pull her away from him. With a strength not her own, she squeezed her hands together. He made a strange, strangled sound, his hands fluttering around her face, his mouth calling her name, silently.

_Ginny…Ginnny…no…._

His fingers flew away from her face, his red eyes wide.

And suddenly they closed, his body going limp beneath him, his hands falling away from her. Her fingers tightened about his throat, watching as the chest slowed beneath the cloak, beneath the pin.

There was a satisfied beating in her heart.

----------

_I got a chance to pour back over my original "In the Shadows" fic, and I have to say, this one is turning out much darker than I anticipated. Perhaps I was inspired by the events in "Half-Blood Prince." Strange how writing works that way! Stay tuned for Chapter 7, the wrap up to the much darker "Out of the Shadows" story!_


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